Say Something
by ForNevermore
Summary: Marinette and Adrien were the perfect couple. They were together, they were happy. And then they weren't. After a devastating accident Marinette is given a choice, to live or to die. Now the two reflect on their failed relationship as Marinette clings to life in the hospital. Will she stay with her friends? Or will she go?
1. Say Something

Say Something

 **Hello friends! I decided to write something new. This one will definitely be more angsty than The Ladybug Effect.**

 **Say Something is based off of the book If I Stay by Gayle Forman, and is told through the alternating perspectives of Marinette and Adrien as they reflect on their relationship.**

 **Warning, there will be swearing, and there is character death. Therefore this currently has a T rating.**

 **I don't own Miraculous, I just wrote this story. I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

The highway stretched on and on like a grey ribbon as far as the eye could see. Almost nobody was on the highway this early, which was a good thing. Sometimes the traffic on the highway is so dense that one can hardly travel a few feet in an hour. But the highway was mostly clear this day, which was unusual for a Friday. That was a pleasant surprise. It had rained earlier that morning, but the sun was slowly starting to peek out from behind the clouds, promising to dry the roads. The pavement was still slick with water, the concrete shone like silver and the headlights of the car were reflected in the puddles. Half of the sky was still filled with passing grey rainclouds, while the other half was clear blue sky. There were still raindrops on the windowpane, waiting to either fall or be evaporated by the sun's rays. I sat in the backseat of the car with my sketchbook in my lap, scribbling a new design that I had been working on all morning. The pencil was light, it felt natural in my hand as I drew clean lines across the previously blank page. My mother, sitting in the passenger seat of the car, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Her kind eyes filled with so much love and adoration for me, her smile was so genuine and wonderful. I let the image of her smiling fix itself into my brain, making sure that it never leaves.

"I expect you to socialize, Marinette," She reminds me, her kind smile still frozen on her face. "I don't want you scribbling in that book for the entire party."

"Yes, mom." I reply without looking up from the design that I'm creating.

This would have made a nice addition to my portfolio for Central Saint Martins. Why couldn't this kind of inspiration had come to me when I was applying? This new design was so much different from all my other ones, there could have been more contrast. Why am I so stupid?

"Marinette." My mother isn't smiling this time. I'm suddenly reminded of where I am, of where we're going. "I'm serious. And watch the present, it's very fragile."

I smile at her and nod. Once her eyes are off me I lean back in my seat, careful not to accidentally undo the bun sitting at the top of my head. It took a thousand bobby pins and an entire can of hairspray to make my bun stay in one place. I smooth out the skirt of my dress, it's one of my own creations. It is light pink with an illusion neckline and an off the shoulder sleeve, the skirt is soft and flowing, and it's longer in the back than it is in the front. It wasn't one of the designs that I sent in my portfolio for Central Saint Martins, home to the most prestigious fashion program in the world, the design was far too simple. The universities do not want simple. They want to see everything that I can do, how creative I can be. How I turn the ordinary into extraordinary. I put my sketchbook down on the seat next to me for a moment, next to a box wrapped in cream paper. Inside of that box was a present for the wedding reception we were to attend. I hardly knew the bride and groom, they were two of my parent's friends. I still don't see why they had to bring me, I was perfectly content on staying home by myself. Studying, sleeping, refreshing my email inbox to see if I had gotten any acceptance letters from universities. My parents were surprised to hear that I was applying to school in London, but they were also incredibly supportive. I'm very fortunate to have them. However, someone else was not so pleased with this new development. Someone that I was extremely fond of.

I stuck my earbuds into my ears, right above my Ladybug earrings. I hit shuffle and a familiar tune filled my head. It was one of the older songs in my playlist, something that was popular ten years ago, but unless someone were singing the song one probably wouldn't be able to recall it. I put my head on the window, looking out at the world as it passed by. When I was a little kid, I thought that the backseat of my parent's car was completely boring. My parents would play music that I didn't like, talk about things that I didn't understand, and I felt the need to interrupt with a chorus of 'are we there yets?' just to remind them that I was there. But the older I got, the more their music became mine, the more I understood their conversations, the more I could contribute. Car rides became a lot more bearable after that. Still, I loved to stick my head out the window and watch the world pass by in a blur. When you're driving you go so fast that you don't have the time to process it, you don't see the full picture, only the obscurity of what might have been there. Cars of all shapes and colours zip past, some speeding, some slow, all in a hurry to get from here to there. Sometimes I would stare at those cars and wonder where they're are going, work, home, school, late night rendezvous with a forbidden lover, international spies intercepting a heist. I can't wait until I'm old enough to drive. I will travel the streets of Paris, zipping through the boroughs and the cul de sacs. I'll journey down a road that keeps going, a never ending highway that I can ride endlessly. To be seventeen is to be completely and helplessly confused and anxious. At seventeen there is so much that you can't do, and it's like adulthood is right there but it's just out of reach. All of the promises of adulthood can be daunting on a seventeen year old, work, responsibility, job, school, life. So many things that I don't know. It's a big world out there, one day I'll have the chance to explore it. It's not that I don't love Paris, or being Ladybug, or my parents. It's just that this city is getting too small for me. I know every street, I know every corner, every building. I want something that I don't know. That's why I did what I did. And it's my decision to make, nobody else's. That's the beauty of this whole free will thing, right?

My phone buzzed in my handbag and woke me from my thoughts. My eyes grew wide, I fumbled with the silver clutch before prying it open to see who had texted me. Maybe it was something from the school, maybe it was Adrien.

"Who's that sweetheart?" My father chuckled when he noticed me fumbling with my purse.

I flushed and held my phone in my hand, swiping at the screen with my finger to unlock it. Nothing from school, nothing from Adrien. Just Alya. While I was a little bit disappointed that I hadn't heard from the university or my- No, he wasn't anymore. He hadn't been since that stupid argument. Well, maybe it wasn't stupid. It was complicated. It didn't matter, Alya's text was enough to make me smile, and that was all I needed.

"Just Alya." I reply with a smile.

I tapped at the screen, writing out my response and adding a little kiss face emoji at the end. I don't remember the text now, I don't even remember what I typed besides that emoji. I just remember that it was my last constant, the last time that my life would ever be normal. Family, friends, waking up every morning, going to school. Things as mundane as texting my best friend would never be the same ever again. The course of my entire life was completely altered in an an instant.

I thought that I would have time, a life, a future. I thought that I would go to university, that I would get married, that I grow up and grow old. I thought that I would have some kind of normal. But normal stopped the instant I felt the violent jerk of the car, and saw the headlights of the car in front blinding me as it sped towards us. I felt the car slam into us with a force so powerful it sent us flying off of the road. The present, wrapped all pretty in the vacant seat next to me, fell to the floor with a crash, my phone left my grasp as the wind was knocked out of me. I heard the crash, I heard the screaming. It took me a moment to realize that it was me who was screaming. That didn't scare me. It was what came after, what I heard next, that horrified me. I heard silence.

My eyes felt heavy, black spots clouded my vision, my chest and throat felt tight, I couldn't breathe air. I could see red, and yet I felt no pain. Instead I felt light and heavy at the same time. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier with every passing second as I struggled to stay conscious, but to no avail. This was it. My last moment, my last thought, my last breath, my last text.

* * *

-Adrien-

Photo shoots are long and boring. All I ever do is stand around for hours while some guy takes three hundred photos of the exact same pose just to get one good photo for father's next advertisement. Any good photographer knows that one must take at least one hundred photos in order for one photo to be decent. Or at least, that is what they told me so that I would willingly stand like a statue for hours. I honestly don't know how those street buskers do it. An hour in a completely uncomfortable, yet appealing, position. Then I'd change poses and hold for another hour or however long it took for the photographer to get a good shot. It put a lot of strain on my muscles to say the least and my back usually kills me afterwards, which is probably why I have my own personal masseuse. Why did they need to take so many pictures of me leaning back anyways? These advertisements are about the clothes, not me. Usually I don't mind all of this modelling stuff. The hair, the makeup, the clothes, the long hours of posing. I'm usually able to smile through them without a second thought. But not today. Not after another long and restless night. I should probably be sleeping better these days, we've been akuma free for a few months now, after Ladybug and I defeated Hawkmoth. Which means that it's also been a few months since I learned that Ladybug was Marinette.

"Adrien!" The photographer scowled at me.

I hadn't even realized that my smile had fallen when her name creeped into my head. I haven't seen or heard from her since our fight. She's been purposely ignoring me at school and she hasn't been out on patrols recently either. If I'm being perfectly honest, I don't blame her, I acted selfish and irrational the last time we spoke. I feel a sudden ache in my chest, my heart races faster, my lungs fill up like a balloon that's about to pop. My stomach churns and I suddenly feel so nauseous, I really hope that it doesn't show on my face. It feels like someone has stabbed me in the chest, and they are twisting the knife so agonizingly slowly. That's what being without her feels like. I will never forget that goodbye. The way she said the word, it just felt so angry, so final. God I miss her so much. I should try calling her when I finish up here, whenever that happens to be.

As if by some miracle, one of the studio lights stopped working and I was allowed to take a break due to technical difficulties. I could finally relax from the insufferable pose that photographer had me in. I trudged over to one of the tables set up with water and fruit. Being a model I was forced onto a very strict diet, which sucked because every once in awhile I wanted to eat whatever I want and not count calories. Despite my better judgement, my mind drifted to the gooey chocolate chip cookies that Marinette's parents sold in their bakery. How they were still warm and fresh from the oven, how sweet they tasted when they melted in my mouth. I shook my head and took a bite out of an apple. It did not taste like a chocolate chip cookie.

Suddenly my phone buzzed restlessly in my pocket, there was almost an urgency in the ringing of that phone. And I almost didn't pick it up. There was a rule against phones during photo shoots, which is why I kept it on vibrate, but a thought popped into my head. It might be Marinette. I made sure that no one was looking and slipped my phone out of the pocket of the jeans they had forced me into for the photo shoot. I was so anxious to pick up the phone that I hadn't even checked the caller identification to see who could have been calling me. I was just too focused on the possibility that it might have been her.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice hopeful, yet trembling at the same time.

"Adrien?" The voice on the other end was male. It was just Nino, which made my shoulders slump in disappointment.

"Hey Nino," I replied, feeling completely defeated. "I'm in the middle of a photo shoot, could you-"

I never got to finish that sentence.

"I don't care if you're in the middle of a fucking shoot! Get your ass to the hospital, now!" I was taken aback by Nino's screaming. I hadn't even noticed how distraught his voice sounded, how heartbroken he was.

Wait. Hospital? Why was Nino at the hospital? What happened? I hadn't even noticed that my heart rate had spiked tremendously just after he spoke those words, my breathing was becoming shallow. What if he was sick? Or hurt?

"Why are you at the hospital?" My voice shook with every word.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the photographer eyeing me, silently judging me. He seemed annoyed and obviously just wanted to finish the photo session, but I didn't give a damn.

"Adrien," His voice cracked on the other line. My best friend never cried, but I could practically hear the tears falling from his eyes. "It's Marinette."

That's when my legs gave out underneath me. Her name echoed in my brain. Marinette. Marinette. What happened? Why was she in the hospital? My mind immediately went somewhere very dark and grim, somewhere that thoughts should never go. Obviously I feared the worst, and silently prayed that I just had an overactive imagination. That everything was just in my head, that I was overreacting. But the tone of Nino's voice hadn't sounded promising at all. My head was spinning, I could hear my heart beating in my eardrums. One of the photography assistants kneeled down in front of me and asked me if I was alright. I didn't answer. I could only hear those two words over and over in my mind, playing back to me like a broken record. Marinette. Hospital.

"What happened to Marinette?" I asked when I finally found my voice again. I was terrified of the answer, something completely unknown, and something that had the potential to kill me inside.

"Marinette was in a car crash," Nino's voice quaked as the words fell from his mouth. "With her parents. I don't have any other details… Alya and I are on our way to the hospital. Please, please meet us there."

I could hear Alya in the background. She was in hysterics. She was screaming and sobbing, and it was obvious that Nino was trying so desperately to stay calm himself, but it wasn't working. I could feel tears prick and pool in my eyes, I didn't bother to wipe them away as I forced myself onto my feet. Marinette. Crash. Hospital. No. She was okay. She had to be. She couldn't have been in a car crash, she couldn't have been in the hospital. This wasn't happening. This was all a dream. But I knew that wasn't the case. This was life. And Marinette might be slowly loosing her's.

How could I have been so stupid with her? So unbelievably selfish. There were so many things that I should have done, so many words that I shouldn't have said. I never wanted to hurt her, but I did. There were so many things that I still needed to say to her, so many things that I had to apologize for. And now she could be… No. Don't you go there Adrien. Don't you fucking go there.

"I'll be there." I confidently told my best friend. "I'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone after that. Determined to not let anything distract me as I made my way to the exit. All of the photographers and staff looked at me, completely dumbfounded, but I didn't notice or care. My hand was on the door handle, about to pull open the door to exit the photography studio, when a strong hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around a little too quickly, my head was still spinning due to the loss of blood circulation. The man looked down at me with a stern look on his face.

"Just where do you think you're going young man?"

* * *

 **And that is chapter one, I hope that you liked it. I'm going to alternate chapters between hospital scenes and flashback, so the next chapter is going to be flashback.**

 **Just for reference, Marinette, Adrien, and their friends are all seventeen/eighteen and in their last year of Lycée (French high school.) Also for reference: In France there is no drinking age, but to purchase alcohol you must be eighteen, the legal driving age is also eighteen. And Central Saint Martins is a real school in London, and it is considered the best fashion school in the world.**

 **Also this is after Hawkmoth's defeat and I'm going off the assumption that Gabriel Agreste isn't Hawkmoth. I mean, I still think that he's Hawkmoth in cannon but this is just a fan fiction so...**

 **Btw, I'm writing this on google drive (because the word on my computer is ancient and doesn't save properly) and drive keeps autocorrecting the word "girl" to "girly" and I have to keep going back to fix it. Does anyone know how to fix the autocorrect so that it doesn't do this? It would really help me out. Thanks!**

 **I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	2. Say Nothing

Say Nothing

 **This chapter is a flashback and takes place a few months before the first chapter. This is pre-reveal, this is where all of the wonderful plot stuff happens. Hope you enjoy! I don't own this show or it's characters.**

* * *

-Marinette-

I'll never forget the night it all began, when I first realized that my affection for Chat Noir ran deeper than simple friendship. It was a few days after we defeated Hawkmoth. We decided to have our own little two person party in order to celebrate our victory. We were sitting at the top of the Eiffel Tower, which was lit up like a Christmas tree in the dark of night. The inky black sky was filled with tiny twinkling stars dancing across the night sky, and the moon was full and radiant. We stood at the top of the world, the universe above our heads, the world beneath our feet. It was like we were kings and queens, watching over the world that we fought so desperately to protect while it slept. Despite the fact that it was nearly the witching hour, it seemed that every single light in the city was on. The world below was sparkling and glimmering with light, an eternal glow, a burning fire that had just been ignited. For a brief moment in time, all of it was ours. The rooftops, the streets, the back alleys, the city, it all belonged to us. I remember him, the warm yellow glow of the tower illuminating his face, his golden hair ending just above his bright green eyes. He looked so soft and delicate, a permanent smile stuck on his face as we observed the city from above. He looked so carefree, like whatever came next didn't matter. I wondered what he was thinking about, now that everything was finally over.

"It's nice out." He breaks the silence, his voice is deep and calm. He sits on the edge of the tower, his feet dangling in the air below him. He leans back and tilts his head up to the sky, the warm night breeze blowing through his hair. "Not too humid or cold, perfect night."

"Yeah." I agreed, only half paying attention to what he was saying.

I leaned forward over the edge of the tower, praying that I would keep my balance, it's a long drop if I fall. He must have sensed something in the tone of my voice because his eyes were on me in less than a moment. Those bright green eyes, so filled with compassion, and hope, and concern. He was the definition of a hero. He has one of the best hearts that I've ever seen on a human, ever. He's easy to joke with and to talk to. All very admirable traits. This was the moment I began to realize just how wonderful he truly was. He was kind and selfless, always putting other's needs before his own. That is when my heart started beating faster in my chest.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired, his voice a hushed whisper. In an odd way, I liked it when he whispered. It felt more intimate, like a secret for just the two of us. However, when you're a superhero, everything is a secret.

"It's just," I couldn't bring myself to look at him, my gaze was fixed on the city below me. "Everything is over. What happens now?"

He looked back at the city for a moment as though he were in deep contemplation. He shifted where he sat, placing his hands at his sides. He looked back at me with a smile, his hand was just an inch away from my knee. His body was so close to mine, a part of me just wanted to lay my head down on his shoulder, just fall asleep right there. I was pulling all nighters left and right to get my portfolio ready for university applications. Needless to say, I was exhausted. It seemed that every fashion program wanted something different, unique. I've been beating myself up over designing new and interesting garments for almost a month now. At least now that all of this stuff with Hawkmoth is over I can finally get some rest. After university applications are submitted of course.

"What do you want to happen now?" He asks, he sounds almost anxious. It's as if he thinks that I'm going to tell him I never want to see him again, even though he knows that I would never say anything of the sort.

"I don't know." I reply, finally forcing myself to make eye contact with him.

His bright green eyes don't leave my blue ones. I never really took the time to look at his eyes before. They were the colour of emeralds, and yet no jewel sparkled quite like them. He still looks nervous, but he hides it behind a seemingly confident smile. I know him too well now, I can tell when his smiles are forced. I don't ask, I just keep staring at him, waiting for one of us to break the silence.

"Do you think that you'll still be Ladybug?" He's trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

I don't tell him that it's unlikely. That I'll be graduating in a few months and going off to university somewhere. That there is a possibility that I won't stay in Paris. I don't tell him about Central Saint Martins. I don't mention the amazing fashion program that I'm applying to in London. I don't tell him about school. Or about life. Or anything. He still doesn't know who I am beneath this dumb mask.

"Will you still be Chat Noir?" I finally reply. It's not an answer, and we both know it. There's something in his eyes that I can't read. Sadness? Hope? But my question is genuine. While I may take a break from the bug-themed superhero, I want to know if he will continue all of this without me.

"I will." He smiles so honestly it sends chills down my spine.

"Oh." I know it isn't the reply that he wants.

I know that he wants me to say something about how we'll always be together, partners in crime. That no matter what comes next, we'll face it together. But I don't think that such promises can be made, especially not if they can't be kept.

He looks at me again. More intensely this time than the last. I can feel him trying to read me, the way I speak, my body language, my face. He wants to know why I'm being so distant, so cold and unfeeling. I hate making him feel like this, like I've been distancing myself from him. We've been friends for four years, we've always been able to tell each other everything. So why can't I just tell him the truth?

Because I don't want to hurt him.

He stares at me. Those large jade green eyes seem to hold reflections of the stars, they shine so bright. His hair is slick with sweat and clings to his face, a mess of disheveled blonde tresses. He smells nice, I wonder what kind of cologne he wears, if any at all. Then there are his lips, full and pink and so unbelievably intoxicating. Why am I suddenly so entranced by him? I've never been like this before. I'm sleep deprived, that has to be it. I should stop this now before this gets out of hand. I might be leaving soon, I shouldn't start something now if it will only meet a quick and bitter end. I don't want to hurt him, this is definitely going to hurt him. Get your face away from his, Marinette. But, I might never get the chance to be with him. I will never be in this moment again, sitting right next to him atop of a brightly lit tower. No, Marinette, move away, now. I can't do this. But at the same time, I can't bring myself to moved away, I can't take my eyes off of him. I'm suddenly aware of how close we are, our face just mere inches apart. He realizes it too, but neither of us pull away, instead we move closer. His forehead is resting against mine, and we both shut our eyes tightly. If I leave, he's the one I'm going to miss most of all. And yet, I don't even know who he really is.

I can feel him. His soft skin against mine, his hot breath on my face. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I sit there, frozen. There is no Paris, no masks, no secrets, no ticking time bomb counting down to explode when everything is over. There is no London, or Central Saint Martins, there is no inevitable goodbye. It's just us, and I couldn't be happier. I can feel him, he's about to pull away, and it takes me only a second to realize that I don't want him to.

Before I can comprehend my actions, I pull his face towards mine. My lips crash onto his ungracefully and stay there. For a split second, I'm terrified that he is going to push me away, that he's going to recoil in disgust, that he'll berate me and vanish from my life. But then I feel a wave of affection rush over my body as he kisses me back, placing one hand on my cheek to deepen our kiss. His touch is delicate on my cheek, like he's afraid to touch me any more than this. His lips are soft and they taste sweet, like strawberries. I feel light and electrified, like my entire body is on fire, and I want more. I want so much more. I want to feel him, I want to run my fingers through his hair. I want him. And that thought completely terrifies me. So I stop.

I pull away because I know that if I don't then I won't be able to resist him. I'll just keep kissing him and kissing him. If I keep doing this then I'm only going to break his heart later, and my own. When I look at him, he seems dazed. His eyes are locked on me and he has the widest, stupidest smile stuck on his lips. An alarm immediately goes off in my brain. Why did I do that? Why had I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to kiss Chat Noir? Why did I give into said urge and actually kiss Chat Noir? I don't even think about him that way. Do I? My eyes travel to his lips again, still only an inch away from mine. My heart starts pounding faster, I can hear it ringing in my ears, like a warning. My gaze travels back to his lips, and suddenly I've forgotten how to breathe. My stomach immediately fills with butterflies at the very thought of kissing him again and I have to fight every urge in my body not to lean in. No. Oh fucking hell, no.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, turning away from him.

"Don't be, I-" I don't let Chat finish.

"I shouldn't have done that." I tell him, quickly standing up from my seat.

I really, really shouldn't have done that. Oh, God what came over me? It was like I was hypnotized, like I wasn't in full control of my body, but at the same time I was aware. I was aware of how much I wanted to stay with him, to let him tell me everything I wanted to hear. But the part of my brain telling me to flee won the argument. I couldn't play with Chat Noir's heart like this. He didn't deserve that. He deserve someone that loves him the right way. Someone who wasn't going to leave him and go to England for the next four years. How was I ever going to tell him that I might be leaving now? I couldn't. Not yet anyways. All I could do in that moment was leave, gather my thoughts. I'll see him again soon.

"LB, wait!" I hear him exclaim after me.

He reaches out to take my hand, but I'm too fast for him. I stand at the edge of the tower, the vast sea of shining lights below me. The world that I tried so desperately to protect, and everything was safe and calm now. The people of Paris could sleep soundly now that there were no threats to their everyday lives. But I realize then that Paris had not been the only thing that I was trying to protect. The walls that I had put up as shelter around a heart of glass, to keep from getting hurt. And it only took one hit from the wrecking ball to tear all of it down. Everything that I was trying to guard, destroyed, completely obliterated by a simple kiss. So I stood on the edge of the world, the wind whipping at my hair, it felt inviting and free. The stars in the sky look down upon me, as if they're trying to tell me not to jump, I don't listen. I lean forward, feeling the gravity pull me down as my feet leave the solid safety of the tower. I allow myself to free fall, and I feel nothing but sky, it's an action that I have performed so many times that I hardly feel the drop anymore. Just seconds before I hit the ground I fling my yo-yo, which attaches itself to a nearby building, and allow the toy to carry me away.

* * *

-Adrien-

I don't follow her. I watch her as she flies through the air, a shooting star to brighten the night sky. She jumps and falls with the grace of a ballerina, the moon casts a spotlight on her and all of the stars in the night sky stop to watch her dance. She is the most exquisite creature that I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. She has no wings, no halo, no long white dress, but she is the most beautiful angel in all of heaven. And she's taken me straight to hell.

I sat on the balcony, watching the sky as the luminescent moon travels across the endless midnight sky. I touch my finger to my lips, I can still feel the ghost of her kiss haunting me, torturing me with longing. I was surprised to say the least. I had never expected that she would lean in the way that she did, and I definitely never expected that she would actually kiss me. Her lips were so soft, alluring, and completely addicting. Her lip gloss tasted like apples with a tiny hint of spearmint gum, a taste that I found myself suddenly craving. She smelled like cupcakes, vanilla covered in icing, I could still feel the scent lingering on my nose. Her face was smooth like fine silk, her rosy cheeks were lined with tiny little freckles, her smile was warm and inviting. She was everything, my whole world, my sun and my moon, my entire universe. And she kissed me.

And now everything was ruined.

Damnit. Damn all of it. Damn everything straight to hell.

I stayed on that tower until the moon was low in the sky, until the indigo of midnight slowly starting shifting into the light blue of dawn. Until the stars started fading and fell from the sky, tumbling ungracefully as they lost their place in the heavens. I hadn't meant to stay out all night, but my mind had been too preoccupied to think of anything other than Ladybug. The sky was turning orange when I snuck back through my bedroom window, a mere hour before the unwelcome blaring of my alarm clock was supposed to tear me from my bed. The moment I transformed back into Adrien I fell clumsily onto my mattress, sinking into the comforter, which welcomed me like a warm hug. My head was throbbing and aching, my heart was pounding rapidly in my chest. I couldn't think of anything else but that kiss. How we both melted into one another, how warm and tingly it felt. How it was as though the two of us were always meant to exist together.

"Want to talk about it?" I heard Plagg's calm voice ask me.

I didn't lift my face from the pillow, I didn't look at him, I didn't even say anything. I simply let out a loud cry of anguish, muffled only by the feather pillow beneath me. I silently prayed that nobody in the house had heard that, this would be hard to explain if anyone decided to check on me. I didn't hear Plagg after that, so I assumed that he went back to his supply of camembert cheese that I've kept stocked in my room. I try to close my eyes, savour the few minutes that I have left in the comfort of my bed. But my mind won't let me be at ease. Her face appears again, her lips, her eyes, her charming smile. I don't think that I'll be able to handle much more of this.

Who am I kidding? I don't deserve her. Why would the most perfect being that ever walked the Earth ever think of me in such a way? Especially when I'm just Adrien. I don't even know who she really is. I don't know the name of the girl behind the mask. I don't know who owns those dazzling eyes, or that captivating smile. I don't know the girl who smells like vanilla and has lips that taste like apples. I wish that I did. I wish that there was a name that I could associate such perfection with.

But I don't have that.

And maybe I never will.

* * *

 **I accidentally made Adrien's part so short... I am sorry, I will do my best to make these chapters longer.**

 **I'm not sure if I should post chapters weekly or every few days. I'm still figuring out this whole update schedule thing.**

 **So I did some research on Central Saint Martins (the school in London where Mari is applying) and I'm pretty sure that my older sister had to do less work to get into med school. First you have to apply to this school, and if you get an approval THEN you have to submit a mini portfolio. Said portfolio will be assessed and if you get approved then they will invite you to London to show the selection panel your full portfolio. Then you will be considered for admission. Like, damn. I'm glad that I won't be applying to university for another three years.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed. Next chapter is going to take place back in the hospital.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	3. Say Anything

Say Anything

 **Aaand we're back in the hospital. I hope that you all are doing well and that you enjoy this chapter. I don't own this show. I feel like I should put a trigger warning for character death, so... yeah.**

* * *

-Marinette-

When I opened my eyes I wasn't in my parent's car anymore. I was lying on the highway, the cold pavement scratching at my skin and digging uncomfortably into my bones. I could hear a ringing in my ear, along with the pounding of my heart in my eardrum. My head felt awful, it felt like someone was hammering rusty nails into my skull. My vision was blurry, the world was a fuzzy blob around me and I couldn't quite make sense of everything just yet. The only thing I could see clearly the sky. The brilliant blue of the heavens above, covered in fluffy white clouds, the sun shining down on me and bathing me in its warm embrace, like a comforting hug. I could smell something that I couldn't quite place. Smoke? Burning? Gasoline? Whatever it was, it was extremely unpleasant, it filled my nostrils and burned my lungs. I felt like I had to cough, but I couldn't. I could hear people, their voices sounded urgent, as though they were in a hurry to get somewhere. I couldn't understand what they were saying, all I heard was distorted mumbling. Gradually, the world started becoming clearer. Slowly, like a photo developing in a dark room, I began to take in my surroundings. I could see red flashing lights, people in scrubs with white masks covering their faces. So many of them, just walking right passed me. Why weren't they stopping to help a girl lying on the ground? Should I try moving?

I tried moving my toes first, I could feel all ten of them, wiggling in my shoes. I could move. That was a good thing. I lifted one of my hands, then the other, my fingers twitched and squirmed. I slowly lifted myself from the ground, forcing myself onto my elbows, and then pushed myself up into a sitting position. I expected to suddenly feel a jolt of immense, unbearable, pain and fall back to the ground. But it never came. I sat cross-legged on the pavement, finally taking a moment to figure out what was going on around me. There were paramedics everywhere, rushing around, yelling orders at one another. Ambulances, their sirens still wailing and crying, letting the world know that something bad had happened. That's when I saw it. Two cars, one significantly larger than the one my parent's drive, sitting immobile on the side of the highway. My parent's car was nothing more than just a metal skeleton. Part of the front was completely smashed in and one of the doors had been ripped off of its hinges. I sprang up from where I was sitting, ignoring the dizzy feeling in my head, the last moment before this happened replaying in my mind. The headlights, the screaming, the crash. The second before everything had gone black. A woman in light blue scrubs passed by me, I waved to get her attention, but she ignored me. What is her problem? I might need medical attention too? Okay, I'm conscious and mobile, but I might have a concussion. Someone tell me what is happening? Are my parents okay? Where are they? Stop ignoring me! I noticed a gurney being wheeled passed me, a familiar form lying on top of it. His white dress shirt was covered in blood, he had a breathing machine attached to his face, bloody gauze was wrapped around his head.

"Papa!" I yelled, running after the gurney. The two paramedics wheeling my father's body away didn't even acknowledge me.

"Hello?" I yelled, my breathing getting heavier, my heart pounding in my chest. "What's happening?"

They didn't listen, they simply picked up the gurney and hauled it into the back of one of the ambulances. They closed the door before I could follow.

"Hello?" I called, anxiously banging on the ambulance door. As hard as I knocked, no sound came from the metal door. "Open the door! Let me see Papa! Please!"

I yelled until my voice went hoarse and my throat began to ache. My vision began to blur as tears filled my eyes. And then I stopped, there was no point if the paramedics weren't listening. I turned around, taking in the sight on the highway once again. The police had set up barricades, closing off the road, behind them I could see backed up traffic, hear the honking of horns as the police did their best to help traffic maneuver around the accident. I turned back just in time to see the ambulance drive away. The second ambulance had the door wide open. Maybe someone would help me there. I cautiously walked up to the vehicle, peering inside. I immediately wish that I hadn't. My hand flew to my mouth, I let out a horrid, banshee-like, scream and collapsed to my knees.

How was this possible? I was standing there, outside of the ambulance, looking in at a girl lying on a gurney. The paramedics had taken her long ebony hair out of it's bun so it fell in loose waves around her shoulders. The makeup that she had spent nearly an hour applying was smudged and her beautiful dress was tainted with red. I knew that girl lying on that gurney, the one that the paramedic was checking.

I was standing there. Looking at myself.

"Am I-" My voice shook violently as I watched the scene unfold in front of me. I couldn't bring myself to say the word. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. "Dead?"

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, hot and running down my face like rain. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. I must have fallen asleep in the car. That had to be it. This was all a dream, I just need to pinch myself. No, ouch, that hurt. Click my heels three times? There's no place like home? Nope, not working. Okay, so I'm real. But that meant. Dad really was taken away in an ambulance. Where was my mom? Where was Tikki? She had been in my bag, where was my bag?

"We have to get her to the hospital." One of the paramedics shouted urgently.

They were about to shut the doors. I was going to lose my chance. I decided that I would worry about Tikki and Mama later. Oh, goodness, where were they? They couldn't be. No. Marinette don't go there. Your mom is okay, she's probably already at the hospital. And Tikki is an immortal spirit, it is impossible for her to die. I took a deep breath and I hopped into the ambulance with the paramedics and my body. She- I- was bleeding pretty badly. I had a nice gash along the side of my face. While the front of the car took a majority of the blow, the paramedics were saying that I had received head trauma, they weren't sure how severe yet. We were moving a second later. The sirens wailed in my ears, my head continued pounding like drums in my brain, everything felt like it was spinning. I was dizzy and my stomach churned, I wanted nothing more than to throw up. The red flashing lights of the ambulance reflected in the rearview mirror as I watched the paramedics slowly fix my body. Or at least, I watched them try.

* * *

-Adrien-

"Father." I greeted him monotonously.

He gave me a harsh glare, his eyes narrowing at me, eyebrows knitted together. I knew where this was going, a lecture, and I didn't have time for it. Not when Marinette was lying in a hospital bed somewhere. I was fully prepared to push him off of me and run out the door when his deep voice interrupted me.

"Where are you going?" He asked calmly. I don't know why, but his calm demeanor annoyed me. How could he be calm right now?

"I have to leave early." I replied simply, trying to free myself from my father's grasp.

My father gave me another stern look, raising one eyebrow as he stared me down. I did not have time for this. I was completely distraught, maybe he couldn't see it on my face. I felt my temperature rising and the blood boiling in my veins, my face was bright red and I was forcing my tears back into my skull.

"You can't leave, Adrien, this photo shoot is very important and we can not reschedule." My father scolded me.

"They've taken a thousand photos of me," I retorted. "So use one of those damn pictures and let me leave."

My father's eyes grew large in surprise. I had never talked back at him before. I felt bad, but in that moment, I didn't care. All that I cared about was-

"I will not be spoken to in this manner young man." Father was about to drag me back over to that photo shoot I could feel it.

So I did what used to do four years ago when I snuck off to attend public school, I ran. I broke out of my father's grasp and threw the door open. I could hear him yelling after me, screaming at me and berating me. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, the world seemed to be moving in slow motion, my vision got blurry as hot tears clouded my vision. Her smiling face appeared in my mind. Her bright blue eyes and how they shone, how they had looked so lovingly into mine. Her midnight black hair and how soft it felt when my fingers were tangled up in her tresses. Her hands and her smooth skin, how her hand felt holding mine, how we seemed to fit perfectly together. The way she always smelled like cookies, the most amazing scent in all the universe. Her pink lips, and how they felt trapped under mine, how intoxicating kissing her was. I have been such an idiot with her. Both as Adrien and as Chat Noir. And now I was praying that I would have the opportunity to apologize to her.

The silver car that had driven me around for years waited patiently outside of the photography studio. The driver's seat window was down and the engine was running, some song about a breakup was playing on the radio, but I wasn't paying attention. I opened the door and slid into leather seat, my seat belt fastened with a click. The driver, believing that I would not be finished for at least another hour, stared at me quizzically.

"Hopital Beaujon." I commanded without even looking at him. The man simply shrugged and shifted the gear into drive.

I could hardly contain my nerves as the car took off down the street. My knees were shaking uncontrollably, my fingers drumming absentmindedly on the empty seat beside me, my foot tapping anxiously on the floor. I was anxious to say the least. Who wouldn't be if they found out that the love of their life was in the hospital? As hard as I tried, I couldn't get her face out of my head. Her eyes, her smile, the way she laughed. How the whole world became so much brighter when she was around. How could I have been so stupid with her? My phone buzzed again, there was no doubt in my mind that it was my father. I let it go to voicemail. He just didn't get it. He never did and he never would. If I picked up the phone we would argue, he would yell at me to come back to the photo shoot, that nothing was more important than what he wanted. Everything was always about him. Maybe I was being selfish, and I was going to get my ears yelled off later, but Marinette is completely worth it.

I lay my head on the cool glass of the windowpane and watched as buildings and shops went by in a blurry haze. Tourists were stopping to take photos, families were strolling down the streets, browsing in the shops. Life just went on. My entire world was potentially falling apart and yet life just continued. Marinette deserved a life. She deserved to have everything that she wanted and so much more. I just hope that I was still something that she wanted. But after what happened, I didn't really blame her.

The second we pulled up in front of the hospital I didn't even bother waiting. I jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Usually I thank my driver for the ride, but I had completely forgotten about it. I made my way through the maze-like hallways, the white walls were empty and dull. The entire hospital smelled like medicine, disinfectant, and soap. I hated that smell. I wasn't alone in the waiting room when I got there. Alya, Nino, and Mrs. Cesaire were sitting in plastic chairs. Alya was crying, her head in her hands, I had heard her sobbing from down the hall. Nino's face was red and he had a hand on the girl's back, rubbing in slow circles. Neither of them noticed me at first. They seemed to be in some kind of trance.

"Hey." I greeted.

They looked up. Alya wiped the tears from her eyes, black blobs of mascara and eyeliner coming off with it. Her eyes were bloodshot and she could barely look me in the eyes. She looked completely broken. Nino stood up from where he was sitting and pulled me into a hug. Neither of them know the full story about what happened between Marinette and I. They don't know the parts about us being Ladybug and Chat Noir. All they know is that we were dating, and now we're not.

"Hey." Nino whispered.

"Have you heard anything?" I asked anxiously.

Nino frowned and shook his head.

"Nothing about Mari or her parents?" I confirmed, and I was met with another head shake. "Are we the only ones here?"

"Her grandparents went to the cafeteria a little while ago," Nino explained. "We're waiting on a few other people."

There was not a lot of talking after that. We all sat in the hard plastic chairs in silence. Everything around us became white noise, nothing else really existed outside of our bubbles. A phone rang, nurses, patients, and doctors walked by, visitors came and left. A television hung on the wall, the news anchor saying something about the five day forecast. I hadn't even noticed when Marinette's grandparents arrived. A man with thin brown hair that was going grey and a bald spot on top of his head and a woman with short hair that had been dyed deep brown. They sat in silence, tears in their eyes. They were both holding muffins from the cafeteria, but neither of them took a bite.

Finally a nurse with a clipboard called the elderly couple. I heard the words 'I'm sorry' leave the nurse's mouth and my head immediately jerked up. Alya and Nino must have heard it too. Although the nurse was whispering, we tried our best to listen, grab any piece of information that we could. We had to know what happened. Whether or not our friend was alright. The fact that we couldn't hear the conversation made the three of us even more anxious. Then the nurse left, and Marinette's grandfather held his hand to his heart while her grandmother looked close to tears. We were terrified to ask, our minds had immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion. The elderly man looked at us, the pained look on his face did nothing to soothe our nerves. We braced ourselves for bad news.

"Unfortunately," The man took a deep breath. "Sabine was killed on impact."

* * *

 **I am so sorry. I did not want to do this.**

 **Also, while my older sister may be in medical school, I am a high school student who has no clue how any medical things work. So if something is inaccurate, I apologize, I am trying.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed! The next chapter is flashback.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	4. Say Everything

Say Everything

 **I decided to be nice to you guys and not wait a week to upload this chapter! This chapter is flashback. I hope that you enjoy. This show is not mine, yadda yadda.**

* * *

-Marinette-

I don't see him for two weeks after the incident on top of the Eiffel Tower. I sit at home, in my room, constantly hunched over my sewing machine. The fabric is smooth and soft in my hands as I weave it through the buzzing machine, the pedal beneath my foot eases up and down as I sew. The needle automatically threads the fabric together, creating the garment. It's going to look great once it's finished. Sometimes my mind would wander back to the tower, how being with Chat felt. He was my closest friend, and friends were not supposed to kiss. Yet I couldn't help but think about how his lips felt on mine, how his hair felt when I ran my fingers through it, the way he smiled at me so unbelievably lovingly. No. No. Bad Marinette. Focus on sewing, this is your future, Chat will soon be your past. Don't dwell on the past. Don't think about those deep green eyes and that sweet smile. Don't think about his hair, all messy and wild, and how those locks feel between your fingers. Don't think about how soft his lips were, how gentle his touch was, how his mouth moved in perfect harmony with yours. Don't think about how much you are going to miss those stupid puns and his constant flirting. Don't think about Chat Noir. Don't think about how you don't want to let him go.

Why can't I get my mind off of him? How was it that just a few days ago I was thinking about Adrien in such a context? Okay, I was still thinking about Adrien that way. But just the other day, I was able to have a normal conversation with him, no stuttering or anything. I know, Alya was shocked too. I can count on one hand the number of conversations I have had with the blonde model without completely butchering my words. Now suddenly it's like, I'm not tongue tied whenever he smiles. Don't get me wrong, I still think highly of Adrien. I still think about his smile, how he tries his best to make others happy, how he cares deeply for his friends. Adrien Agreste is a wonderful person, one would be a fool not to love him. But whether I like it or not, my brain is slowly pushing him aside and Chat Noir is taking his place. That might be fine if I wasn't leaving the country in September. No Marinette, you haven't been accepted yet, don't count your chickens before they hatch. There's a high chance that you won't get accepted, that you're going to stay in France. As much as I want to go to London, I know that it is completely unrealistic.

When I finally look up from the machine, the sun is slowly starting to set outside of the window. Bright golden rays of dying light flood through my window, blessing my room with the last of daylight. The sky is beginning to turn pink and orange, with tiny hints of purple mixed into it, the heavens above are colourful and magnificent. I wonder how those colours would look on a dress. A dress that sets with the sun. I pick up my sketchpad and begin an outline of my idea. Should the dress have a high neck or low? Should the skirt be tight or flowing? Sleeves? No sleeves?

"Marinette?" I hear my mother's calm voice rang through the room. The hatch leading into my room creaks and squeaks as it is opened.

My head jerks up from my sketching just a little too quickly. She stands in my room, her ever sweet smile crossing her face. She's still wearing her apron from the bakery, sprinkled with flour and oil stains. She smells like cinnamon and cake, I wonder if she has left the bakery at all since this morning. She crosses the room, her footsteps are silent on the hardwood floor, as though she were gliding across the floor like a ballerina. She always had the lightest step, no one could ever hear her coming. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug and slowly runs her fingers through my hair. The scent from the bakery fills my senses and makes me feel safe and comforted. When she lets go of me she stares at my face for a long moment, observing the bags under my eyes and the look of my skin. I know that I look as exhausted as I feel.

"You look exhausted, sweetheart." Her voice is soft and comforting, she sounds so calm and her voice makes me smile.

She kisses my forehead lightly, her touch is so light and soft, as if I'm a precious porcelain doll that she is afraid to break. It's too late for that mom, I've already been completely shattered. I'm not exactly sure how I am supposed to put myself back together. Everything has been so confusing and stressful lately, my final year of school, applications for university, keeping up good grades, working on my portfolio. My confusion over these new feelings for Chat Noir. And Adrien. I still feel a fire burning in the pit of my stomach whenever Adrien looks my way, or when I accidentally bump into him in the hallway. But I fear that fire might be dying, even if I don't want it to, slowly becoming nothing but ash and smoke. I know that, because the fire that I feel when I think of Chat Noir is different. It's hot, and burning, and blazing, it doesn't stop. This fire isn't controlled, it's destructive. Tearing down every wall that I've tried so desperately to keep up around my heart. Thinking about him, and our kiss, and everything that he meant to me, it was overpowering all of my other senses to the point where I can't think of anything else.

My mom takes my hand and forces me out of my seat, away from my sketchbook and my sewing machine. My legs feel numb, as I haven't gotten up in hours. My legs feel wobbly once I stand, like I'm still learning how to take my first steps. My mother holds me until I regain my balance. And then she lets go. Her smile is warm and genuine, yet I notice a tiny twinge of worry behind her eyes.

"How long have you been working?" She asks.

"All day." I mumble.

"Why didn't you come down to eat?" She inquires, letting out a small and exasperated sigh.

Because every time I stop working I start thinking about Chat Noir and his stupid, adorable, grin that makes my heart flutter. And his musky, invigorating scent that is completely impossible to resist. And I don't know what to do because I might leave the country in a few months and not return for at least four years. Oh, and those soft, kissable lips. Gah! No, bad Marinette. As much as I hated to admit it, the more I thought about that kiss with Chat Noir, the more I craved his touch, his kisses. I wanted more, and that was a very dangerous thing to want. Okay, so maybe I liked that kiss. Maybe I wanted to kiss Chat Noir again. No, I really wanted to kiss Chat Noir again. Fucking hell, Mari.

"I don't feel hungry." I lie, packing up my sewing supplies in order to avoid looking her in the eyes. I'm pretty good at lying, so long as I avoid direct eye contact while I do it. "Plus if I don't finish this sample garment then I won't be able to make the deadline. Lazy people don't go to London."

Of course I was applying to fashion universities here in France too, including Paris's prestigious Ecole de la Chambre Syndicale. But I always knew that school wasn't for me. Even if it is rather inexpensive, and I just happen to be friends with the son of one of their esteemed alumni. My heart wasn't here anymore. Being Ladybug hasn't exactly been the same since Hawkmoth was defeated. I still love being Ladybug. I enjoy the freedom, the magic, the adventure, and Tikki knows that I still love it too. It was Tikki that encouraged me to send the application to Central Saint Martins, even after I told her how long and rigorous the application process was and that there wasn't much of a chance that I'd get in. But Tikki told me that if I can defeat Hawkmoth, than I can do anything. One could imagine my surprise when my application was accepted and I was told to send in a mini-portfolio so that they could further consider me as a potential student. Which is exactly what I was currently working on. I loved Paris to death, and being Ladybug, and jumping from rooftop to rooftop with Chat Noir by my side. But my heart yearned for a new adventure, something bigger than Ladybug. Hopefully, be my good luck on my side, London will be that adventure.

Despite my better judgement, his face appears in my mind again. A face that I would never find again if I left. If I leave Paris, if I go to London, how am I going to say goodbye to him? How am I supposed to tell Chat Noir that our time together is almost up, that I'll have to leave him and Paris behind. I wonder if he even cares at all. After what I did two weeks ago, I wouldn't blame him if he didn't care.

My mom enveloping me in another tight hug pulls me back to reality.

"I understand what you're going through." She explains, I don't tell her that she couldn't possibly know what I'm going through because she was never a teenage superhero, but I sadly can not tell her about being Ladybug. "I remember being seventeen, being so confused about what was going to happen next, what I was going to study in university, where I would work. I definitely didn't think that I would be where I am now."

She brushes her fingers through my hair, which is probably oily and messy. When was the last time I washed it? Probably a few days. I'm still in the sleep shirt and yoga pants that I slept in last night. Did I wear them all day yesterday? How long have I been wearing this outfit? Oh no, do I smell? I should probably shower, or at least put on some deodorant.

"You know," She continues, picking up my sketchbook and flipping through the newer designs that I've spent days working on. "You're much better off than I was at your age. You've always known that this is what you wanted, ever since you were little."

My mom was right. For a long time, I knew that fashion and design was truly what I wanted to do. My mom could tell long stories about how she would always find me in my bedroom drawing dresses, or flipping through her fashion magazines. Cutting out pictures from magazines and making collages dedicated to fashion and my own unique sense of style. I will never forget the Christmas when she and Papa surprised me with a sewing machine. I was twelve years old when I got it. I still remember the box perfectly wrapped in red paper with jolly old St. Nick's bearded face printed on it, sitting under the evergreen tree in our living room. I remember how heavy the box was, and the excitement that I felt when my parents handed me the box. Twelve year old Marinette, clad in red flannel pajamas and surrounded by colourful boxes, opening what would become her favourite present. I was so happy when I unwrapped the present that I immediately threw my arms around my parents and nearly forgot about every other present under that tree. I got Papa to help me set up the machine almost immediately after we were finished unwrapping presents. I spent the rest of the day experimenting with my new machine, figuring out how everything worked, and how I would create so many amazing things with it. They have always been so incredibly supportive of me and what I've wanted to do. I don't think that I'll ever be able to show them just how thankful I am for everything that they have done for me. The memory fades quickly, and I'm back in my bedroom, my mom still flipping through my new designs. She has a sweet smile on her face, I know that she's proud of me, of what I've accomplished.

"Now I want you to get some sleep." She whispered, kissing me on the forehead one last time before placing my sketchbook back on my desk and exiting through the hatch.

I hear her going down the stairs. I can recognize the sound of her slippers on the steps anywhere. My father is downstairs too, I can hear the television on in the living room, turned on to some sporting game. I relax in my seat, letting out a breath I hadn't realized that I was holding.

"You know your mom is right." I hear Tikki's high pitched voice from the makeshift bed that I made for her. "You should get some sleep."

"I know." I rub my eyes and let out a small yawn. My bed seems so tempting, but I know that I won't be able to sleep. So I decide that the best thing to do is let off some steam before bed, something to get rid of all the unnecessary stress. "Can we go out first? Just for a little while? I need to relax."

"If that's what you need." Her usually cheerful voice is tinged with worry, but she doesn't resist when I transform.

The familiar warmth that comes with transformation travels throughout my body. The light overtakes my senses and fills me with euphoria, it is undeniably the greatest feeling in the world. I feel the costume materialize on my body, it feels soft and comfortable on my skin. The costume is so natural that I hardly feel it on my person anymore. It's like another skin to me. I open up the hatch above my bed and step out onto the balcony, the sky slowly turning indigo above my head. There were a few stars out, littered across the sky like little diamonds, and the white crescent moon hung in the sky. The heavens floated above the world like an intangible world of light, and I was stuck on the ground. I held my yo-yo in my hand, the weight of the toy was nearly nothing in my palm. I throw the toy, allowing the string to fly out and catch onto a nearby building. I allow my body to become completely weightless as I fly through the air, twirling and flipping from rooftop to rooftop. The cool night wind whips around my body, through every strand of my hair. A ladybug without wings, yet I still have the ability to fly, to be free of the restraints that tether me to the ground. I sit on one of the taller buildings, watching as the sun's final rays bid Paris farewell until the next day. Everything was warm and calm, I could hear the chatter of people walking down the streets, the roaring engine of cars, the city is alive and energetic. It fills me with adrenaline, but also a sense of peace. I wonder if London is like this at night, all lit up, and loud, and crazy, and wonderful.

It was serene and tranquil. Until, of course, I heard a scream.

Not tonight. Not when I'm so completely stressed out. I silently groan to myself before zipping off towards the source of the screaming. The noise leads me to a slightly dark alley near the park. I see a woman in high heels running from someone, her purse discarded on the ground. Might be a mugging. I see two shady looking men fist fighting with a third. It takes me a second to realize who they're fighting with. A boy in a black cat suit. Chat Noir.

I watch them for a moment. The two men have at least two hundred pounds on Chat, and while the two of us had fought numerous akuma together, I didn't like his odds in this scenario. I take a deep breath, bend my knees, and jump into the action.

* * *

-Adrien-

"What the hell were you thinking?" She doesn't sound angry, simply disappointed and a little bit anxious. I can see on her face that she was worried, even though she knows that she doesn't have to be.

To say that I was shocked when she dropped down next to me was an understatement. She had practically disappeared since the incident a few weeks ago. To be perfectly honest, I was getting worried. I was terrified that she had changed her mind, that she didn't want to be Ladybug anymore, that she was leaving our partnership. Another part of my brain wondered if something bad had happened to her, that she had been skipping patrols and avoiding me because something terrible happened to her. I waited for her in our usual meeting place every night for the past two weeks, hoping, praying, that she would make an appearance. That she would return to me. Maybe she didn't want to talk about what happened, and I was okay with that, honestly. I was beginning to think that she had left, just like my mother. Leaving me without any explanation or anything. What did I do wrong to make everyone leave? I was hurt, heartbroken, miserable, and completely shattered.

But despite all of these emotions, I couldn't bring myself to be angry with her. Fighting crime by her side again felt right, it felt natural. We didn't talk or joke around like we normally did when we were taking down akuma, this was much more serious. This fight only lasted a few minutes. Neither of us used our powers, we decided long ago that we would only use our powers on akuma, unless our lives were in immediate danger. The two muggers hadn't posed much of a threat and neither of them were heavily armed, using magic would make it an unfair fight. It wasn't until they retreated that Ladybug finally spoke to me, and even when she did, she couldn't look me in the eye.

"I was thinking that I had to help that woman." I replied as though it were obvious.

I contemplated taking a step closer to the girl, but decided against it, I didn't want to scare her off before we had the chance to speak.

"No, I mean," She sounded like she was flustered, like she couldn't find the words. Neither of us really knew what to say. "Why did you do this alone? Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I can handle two guys on my own." I'm trying my best not to yell. If this is my only chance to make things okay again, I don't want to screw it up with my bad luck, again.

She takes a few steps closer to me, we're only a few inches apart. One of her hands is under my chin, she slowly leans in close, I can feel her breath on my face. I close my eyes, either to savor the moment and enjoy this rare closeness, or prepare for a kiss. I know that there is no kiss coming. More likely than not I'm going to get slapped. Still, I wait for something, but it doesn't come. She stays close, I can feel her body heat radiating off of her, making my heart thump wildly in my chest. I open my eyes again after a moment and notice her looking at my face in concern, she's observing me.

"You're bleeding." She finally tells me.

Oh. I raise my hand to my nose, and wouldn't you know? Blood. Crap, and I have a photoshoot tomorrow.

"Come on," Ladybug sighs, pulling me out of the alley and through the park. "Let's clean you up."

Her grip is tight on my wrist as she leads me through the park. The streetlights are the only light in the park, casting their glow like spotlights along the paved trails. Luckily, there isn't anybody in the park at the moment, neither of us are in the mood to sign autographs or pose for pictures. Her hand on my wrist feels comforting and warm, even if she's cutting off the blood circulation to my hand. This is the most contact that I've had with her in over two weeks. I just want to hold her close and tell her everything that I've been longing to say since the day I met her. She pulls me into one of the park's family restrooms. I'm standing by the sink as she scurries around the restroom. She dampens a paper towel and begins to clean off the blood for me, like I'm a child. If it were anyone else but her, I might have completely refused to let them touch me. But this was Ladybug. After two weeks without her, I didn't want anyone else to take care of me. There was something oddly intimate about dressing wounds, about helping someone else to heal. Her soft touch on my face is enticing, and I need more. I catch a glimpse of the two of us in the bathroom mirror. I see her in her red suit, frantically switching out the dirty paper towel for a clean one. Her face is unreadable, I don't know whether she's happy to see me, or sad, disappointed, worried. But she's still gentle, she apologizes whenever I wince at the pain. I can see myself in the mirror too, my nose is completely red and turning purple in some areas, that definitely might be broken, and I split my bottom lip a bit. I can taste the ivory blood trickling from my body, and it does not taste pleasant. She applies pressure to my nose to stop the bleeding, pain shoots up my nerves. I wince again and a small, yet loud, groan escapes my mouth.

"This is why you should have called me." She finally breaks the silence. "Now I have to clean you up."

"I didn't want to bother you." I lie. Well, it isn't a completely lie. I was terrified of rejection, which was why I didn't contact her, but she doesn't need to know that. "I thought that you didn't want to be Ladybug anymore."

She doesn't answer for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something, but isn't sure how to say it. She's keeping something from me, I can feel it. She removes the paper towel from my nose, the bleeding has stopped.

"Why would I stop being Ladybug?" She wonders out loud. I'm not sure if it's a question that I'm supposed to answer, if she wants some kind of reason as to why I thought such a thing. But then she continues. "I'm not going to give up being Ladybug just yet, I promise."

I can't tell if it's a promise that she intends on keeping. And I don't want to ask. But I still want to know the answer. I want to know that she is going to stay, that she is going to be by my side, that whatever we do, we'll do it together. But I can't bring myself to ask her. There's a moment of silence as she begins to wrap my nose in toilet paper, acting as gauze. Her touch is gentle and soft on my skin. Her fingers moved gracefully, her blue eyes were concentrated. She looked so serious doing the most mundane of tasks. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest again, flipping and flying, enjoying being this close to her. She was completely and utterly amazing. So kind hearted, considerate, compassionate. Maybe I should take a blow to the face more often. Sure, it's really fucking painful, but if it meant that she would bandage me up like this afterwards then it was worth it. Despite my better judgement, my eyes travel to her lips, and I can't help but remember how soft and sweet they were on mine. I can't help but remember the way she tastes, how the feeling of kissing her made me feel more alive than anything else that I had ever experienced in my life. How incredibly amazing that she was, how much I would give just to taste those lips one more time. That is, if she even wants it. Just the thought sends a stabbing feeling straight to my chest, my heart hurts and I can hardly breathe. Of course she doesn't want to kiss me again. Why would she? That's why she's been avoiding me for the last few weeks. I look at her again, our eyes meet this time, green meeting with blue in perfect harmony. Her eyes are blank, they don't give me any indication of how she is feeling. There was only one way to know for sure if she regretted the kiss, to ask her. Even if it was awkward, we had to communicate.

I took a deep breath to gather my courage.

"About what happened the last time we saw each other," I blurted out before I lost my nerve. "When you, um, kissed me, did you-"

"I-" She interrupted, but immediately stopped. She pressed her lips together in frustration, or thought. She looked away from me, she couldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

She leans against the dirty porcelain sink, looking anywhere but directly at me. She taps her foot on the unswept tile floor, littered with candy wrappers and paper towels. I look into the mirror again, the reflective surface is stained and cloudy, but I can see myself clear as day. The makeshift bandage around my face looks humourous, like I no longer have a nose. Then I look at her again, I don't see any indication that she's going to bolt. Which is good, but that could change in a second. I had to say something else.

"It wasn't bad," I tell her, trying to meet her eyes again. She shuts her eyes tightly, and I'd give anything to know what she was thinking. "I didn't mind."

I sound stupid. Why can't I be more suave? I'm usually good at that when I'm Chat Noir. Be better, be better.

"I mean-" I try again. "I-"

I'm terrified that she's about to run. That she is about to leave and disappear from my life forever. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are screwed shut, but she stays leaning against the sink. She hasn't left. Maybe she isn't going anywhere.

"Did you like it?" The question comes out before I realize what I'm saying.

Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. She isn't leaning on the sink anymore, she simply stands frozen in spot, her arms still crossed. Her face is still unreadable, and I'm pretty sure that I have the exact same expression on my face. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, as if she's wondering what she wants to say. Her face slowly turns as red as her suit, and she looks down at the dirt-filled floor.

"A little." She finally admits, she still doesn't look at me. She shifts her weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

I feel my heart explode in my chest. I feel all warm as a tingly feeling travels across my body, and it takes everything in me not to smile like a fool. Even if she didn't return the same feelings that I did, she basically said yes. She liked the kiss. She liked kissing me. But she still doesn't look happy. If she didn't look so miserable, I might have teased her about liking the kiss. I would have playfully flirted with her until she decided to shut me up. But she looked awful, not regretful, just sad. So I force myself down from my high, as painful as it is.

"Then what's wrong?" I ask carefully, praying that I don't accidentally offend her.

She looks down again, as if she feels utterly defeated. I want to hug her, hold her in my arms, and tell her that everything was going to be alright. But I don't want her to be uncomfortable and walk away from me. Maybe I shouldn't be bombarding her with all of these questions, maybe I should be taking this conversation slower. Maybe she's uncomfortable. Then she lifts her head. Her piercing blue eyes never fail to stun me, my heart skips a beat when she looks at me. I want her so badly, even if it's just talking to her. We could talk about absolute nonsense all night long. I just don't want her to be angry or uncomfortable.

"I- Guess I'm just-" She finally spoke, her voice cracked and she stuttered a little bit. "Going to be a disappointment."

A disappointment? How could she ever be a disappointment to me? This was Ladybug. She could never disappoint anyone, ever. She was intelligent, radiant, kind, and warmhearted. She wasn't perfect, but she could admit her mistakes, and that made her perfect to me. She was admirable and exquisite. How could she ever be a disappointment?

"Ladybug-" I whisper.

"You should go home." She interrupts. She keeps up her poker face, but her voice sounds like she is in pain. She touches the makeshift bandage wrapped around my face. The tiniest hint of a smirk finds it's way onto her face. "How are you going to explain this to your family?"

I hadn't thought about that. Well, I could just tell father that I got injured during fencing, that might be believable. Hopefully he won't question how I got a nose injury practicing a sport that requires participants to wear masks.

"Fencing accident?" I offer.

She chuckles ever so slightly, it's almost inaudible. But I can hear the cheerful noise clear as day. She doesn't sound sad anymore, but she doesn't sound happy either. Hopefully the next time I see her I can bring the most charming smile in the world back to her face. Maybe she and I can finally go back to normal.

"I have to go." She finally tells me, her monotone poker face returns. "I have homework to finish. I'll see you soon, alright?"

I'm so dazed that I hardly hear her voice. The words reach my ears, filling me with immense joy. She wants to see me soon. She turns and starts walking out of the bathroom. I'm just now noticing how much it stinks in here, so I follow her out.

"I'll see you soon, Bugaboo." I reply, giving her a flirtatious wink.

I watch as she rolls her beautiful blue eyes, the faint smile making a reappearance on her lips. I watch her as she flies off into the night, carried only by a red yo-yo. She looks like a shooting star, zipping through the night. And I wish I may, I wish I might, that everything between us will be alright.

* * *

 **This accidentally became nine pages. Whatever, I hope you enjoyed. Hospital scene is coming next. I just realized the complete lack of puns in this fic... Like, this is serious so I don't think that there should be too many puns, but at the same time puns are like 85% of the reason I love Chat Noir... Whatever, it's fine.**

 **Also, I don't know if any of you have read The Selection by Kiera Cass, but I was reading it the other day and I was wondering what it would be like with Adrinette. Could you imagine Prince Adrien having a bachelor-style selection to chose the next Queen and falling for adorable little Marinette? However I'm not sure how the whole secret identity thing would fit into this... Oh well.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	5. Say Goodbye

Say Goodbye

 **Back to the hospital. I don't own this show, I write fanfiction, la di da. I hope that you enjoy.**

* * *

-Marinette-

The ambulance was cold and smelled like chemicals and morphine. The air was filled with sirens blaring in my ear, which drowned out the noise of paramedics yelling at one another. We sped down the highway to the nearest hospital, I looked at my unconscious body, wondering if we would make it there in time. Maybe it was already too late, maybe my spirit was simply trying to make peace before passing on to whatever comes next. Growing up, my parents and I never followed any religion. I've always had my own thoughts about God and heaven and whether there is life after death. I never thought about my own death, about how I would die, or when, or who I would be with. Whether or not I would be completely alone. I never thought about what death or an afterlife might look like, whether it would be a tropical beach in an exotic location, or the endless flames of a fire. I never thought about who would be there to greet me in heaven or hell, who I would meet. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was death. Maybe death was being forced to aimlessly wander around the world for all of eternity. But something was off. I could hear myself breathing, I could feel the thumping of my heart in my chest. It didn't feel like death. No, this wasn't as final as death. I was always told that your entire life flashes before your eyes the moment before you die. Perhaps that is not what truly happens. Maybe you just have a dream-like impression, a memory of what was and what will never be. I wonder what I'll see if it happens.

When we arrive at the hospital my body is immediately taken to the emergency room to be prepped for surgery. They've taken my hair out of the bun that I spent nearly an hour trying to perfect, and they're also removing the dress that I hand made in favour of a pair of scrubs. I look down at my spirit body, only to find that I'm still in the pink dress that I was going to the wedding in. I touch my hair, it's still in the perfect bun that I had left it in. I wipe my lips, and a layer of pink gloss comes off onto my fingers. I look the same as I did just moments before everything went to shit. I sigh and collapse into a plastic chair outside of the door to the surgery room. While I should probably stay as close to my body as possible, I get uneasy at the sight of blood. I'm completely alone in the hallway, or at least I feel alone. The phone rings, one of the doctors answers it. I can hear a machine beeping from one of the other rooms, I'm not entirely sure where. I look around the hallway, everything is white, the tile floors, the plastered walls, there is no colour anywhere. There are posters on the walls, public service advertisements for different meds and pamphlets about facilities and research. Magazines from six months ago sit on a glass table beside me, the covers graced with a smiling celebrity couple who have since broken up. Nurses and doctors rush past me, holding clipboards or medications. Their voices are only noise, I don't listen to what they are saying. I'm looking for someone. His ambulance left before mine did, meaning that he is probably already here. Somewhere.

A doctor and a nurse exit one of the surgery rooms, the nurse has a clipboard and a binder tucked under his arm while the doctor has her head hung sadly. Her black hair is tied back in a ponytail, which bounces with every step she takes. She takes the clipboard from the nurse and reviews whatever is written on it before continuing down the hallway. I stand up and follow them curiously, watching as the doctor and the nurse make their way to a separate department. I pass men and women, talking, standing, sitting, waiting. I wonder what they are waiting for, good news, bad news. I wonder if there are any like me, who are waiting to be judged. The doctor and nurse walk into a room with the brightest fluorescent lights that I have ever seen. There were counters along the walls, lined with instruments that I couldn't name. There was a table in the centre of the room, one with a terrifying sight laying on top of it. There was a body bag.

"She was dead when they arrived." The nurse stated gravely, his voice filled with pity.

"Struck by an intoxicated driver, completely heartbreaking." The doctor muttered sadly, shaking her head slowly.

"I feel bad for the little girl." The nurse added.

What? Little girl? There hadn't been a child in the car that hit us, had there been? Was there someone younger than me in that body bag?

"No one should have to lose their mother this way." The doctor sighed, hanging her head sadly.

No. No, no, no, please God, no. I felt my knees jiggle and shake beneath me, threatening to give in. I couldn't breathe, and whenever I tried it came out shallow and shaky. The room became blurry and my vision became cloudy, I couldn't tell if it was tears or faint. The nurse unzipped the body bag just enough that I could see the top of her head. The beautiful black hair that she gave me, the locks that she used to let me style when I was little. Her beautiful eyes that would never open ever again. Her hands that would caress my face when I was sad. I fell to my knees, my hands covering my eyes, as though I could just open them and this would all be a dream. What was I going to do without her?

Suddenly the doctor's walkie let out a loud beep.

"Doctor Crawford to surgery room eleven." The walkie screeched.

The woman scurried off, the nurse following close behind her. And I was alone. I had never felt so completely on my own before. I felt the tears cascading down my face, refusing to stop. I didn't even bother to wipe them away. She will never hug me again, she will never kiss my head, I'll never hear her kind voice call my name. She will never give me advice, or wipe my tears when I cry. She will never see me graduate, she won't see me off when I go to London, she won't get to watch me explode with stress right before my first fashion show. She will never bake me a cake on my birthday, she won't be there to help me choose a wedding dress. She won't give a tearful speech at my wedding. She was gone, Sabine Dupain-Cheng was dead. What are papa and I going to do without her?

* * *

-Adrien-

Alya wasn't crying anymore. She sort of just sat in the cold plastic chair, staring down at nothing, as though she were in shock. Nino and I were afraid to touch her, as though she were so fragile that even the gentlest of touches would completely shatter her. When we heard that Mrs. Dupain-Cheng had passed, poor Alya turned so pale that we were afraid that she might faint. I can only imagine the pain that Marinette will endure once she wakes up, because she will wake up. Alya sometimes stands up for no reason, paces around the waiting room, and sits back down in her seat. I can feel her pain, the intense fear that someone that you hold so dear to your heart might be gone forever. I feel it too, the emptiness, knowing that there is nothing I can do for Marinette but wait and pray for good news. God, please let Marinette be okay. I know that nobody is going to act in the way that they normally do until we hear more about Marinette's condition, but this is getting scary. Alya completely ignores her phone, which has been beeping and buzzing nonstop for at least a half hour. I know that she and Nino alerted everyone in our class about the situation, I've gotten a few texts myself from classmates asking how Marinette is. However, most of the time my phone is buzzing with calls from my father and Nathalie. To say the least, it's annoying, but I'm not going to abandon Marinette. Not again. She's too important. I am truly terrified of the wrath I will face when my father inevitably drags me out of the hospital waiting room and gives me some long talk about reputation and responsibility. But at the same time, I don't care. She is worth it, completely and utterly worth it.

"Psst." I hear whispering from inside of my bag.

I glance over at Nino and Alya. Alya is letting her mom rub her back now, but she still isn't moving or speaking. I feel awful for her. I stand up and excuse myself to the restroom, taking my bag with me. Luckily, the restroom is one stall, so I don't have to worry about anyone walking in on me. I open up my bookbag, finding Plagg next to an empty container that was once filled with disgustingly stinky cheese.

"I need to find Tikki." Plagg tells me, fleeing from the bag, which smells exactly like the cheese that Plagg forces me to stock in there.

I had completely forgotten about Marinette's kwami. Did she get injured in the crash? Can kwamis get injured? Was she in a similar state that Marinette was in?

"Is she okay?" I asked. "Do you know?"

"She's fine." Plagg replied. "I can sense her, her energy. She isn't with Marinette, though, she's in a separate wing where evidence from the crash is being kept for trial."

That part should have been obvious. By this point we all knew that the driver that crashed into Marinette and her parents had been distracted. Evidence had to be collected in order to support a case and find someone liable. But that was being kept in a completely different wing, one that I more than likely did not have access to.

"Just follow me," Plagg whispered, floating towards the washroom door. "I know what I'm doing."

I really don't think that you do, but I'll follow anyways. Plagg leads me down the hallway, staying just out of sight. He evades doctors, nurses, and other patients with advanced skill. I'm sure that if I had a thousand years of stealth training then I would be able to do that too. Luckily, it is not all that hard to find the wing where the belongings of the crash victims were being stored. The walls are white and completely bare, the fluorescent lights are harsh on my eyes, and the wing screams prison instead of hospital. Plagg comes to a stop in front of an unmarked door that needed a key card to access.

"Wait here." Plagg told me as though I had another choice.

I watched as my kwami phased through the heavy looking door and vanished. And I was alone again. I see that being alone is a theme in my life. My father was distant, I was alone. My mother left, I was alone. I was homeschooled and had no friends, I was alone. And then I met her. Ladybug was the one who filled the void when everybody else abandoned me. She was friendly and it felt so great to talk to her. While it took some time, I slowly got to know her better and I fell for her harder than I had ever thought was possible. As time went on, I got to know her more and more, and she became even more beautiful to me. By the time I found out that she was Marinette I was a goner. And then she left too. And I was completely alone again. The void in my heart nearly three times as big, a big gaping hole in my chest, one that might never be filled again. My vision slowly turned blurry, tears began to pool and swim in my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the tears to the back of my head, refusing to let them fall. I wish that she was here, that she was standing in front of me, alive and alright. But she wasn't. And she might never again.

A few minutes later, Plagg emerged from the unmarked room, Marinette's tiny red kwami following behind him. Tikki was floating slower than Plagg was, she seemed much less lively and more ghostly, like she wasn't completely alive. She looked slightly banged up, and definitely shaken. But other than that, she looked alright. She smiles when she sees me, or at least she tries to.

"You okay?" Her voice is high pitched and squeaky.

"No." I reply flatly. "Are you?"

She shakes her head sadly, hanging her small head in defeat. There's a tiny bump on her head, one that she obviously obtained during the crash. She must have been terrified, not knowing whether or not Marinette was going to be okay. If she was going to have to start looking for a new Ladybug. That wasn't going to happen, there wouldn't be a new Ladybug for a very long time. I was sure of it. I couldn't imagine being Chat Noir if she wasn't there to be my Ladybug.

My Ladybug.

But she wasn't mine anymore.

* * *

 **This one accidentally became so short, I'm sorry, I'll try harder.**

 **I'm trying really hard to make these angsty and heartbreaking. I find it harder to write in the summer than during the school year. I know that it's the opposite for most people, but I write best when I have a bunch of other things to do.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed! The next chapter is flashback.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	6. Say Hello

Say Hello

 **More angst! More pain! Mwa ha ha! I don't own this show, but I did write this fanfiction. I hope that you enjoy.**

* * *

-Marinette-

I had many sleepless nights in the past, imagining myself with a boy, one with blonde hair and green eyes. He would put his arm around me, he would look into my eyes, I'd feel the warmth and comfort of my hand in his, of his beating heart against mine. He would hold me to his chest, a feeling of electricity flowing throughout my body, shocking my system as a pair of strong arms let me know just how much I was loved. Then he would kiss me, his lips would feel like satin on my skin. And then he would whisper in my ear, his hot breath tickling sensitive flesh, sending shivers down my spine. Except tonight, it wasn't the same boy. I thought about a boy hiding behind a mask, concealing his true identity. His face was a blur in my mind, there were no discernable features that I could envision. He was completely anonymous to me, and yet he was my closest friend. I could tell him anything, my thoughts, my troubles, my dreams. I could tell him about the things that made me laugh, and the things that made me cry. We understood one another, a connection that ran deeper than anything that anyone else would ever understand. Sometimes I wonder if we would be this open with one another if we didn't have the anonymity of a mask to conceal who we truly are. Even now, when we still have the cover of masks, we still don't tell each other everything. There are certain things that you don't tell people, things that you never want anybody to know. Things that may be safe only in the darkest corners of one's mind. I wonder what kind of secrets lurk in Chat's head. And if I'll ever figure them out. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that I enjoyed our kiss. Maybe I should have lied and told him that I regretted it. Maybe then we could have gone back to being just friends. I suddenly felt an odd sting in my chest at the thought of being just friends with Chat Noir. When did I start feeling this strongly towards him? I had always thought highly of him, but this was different. Now that I might be going away, It's like I'm hesitant to leave him. To say goodbye to the person I spent four years fighting crime with. I'm just now realizing that if I leave, we won't be able to run across the rooftops at night. We won't be able to keep the city safe at night. He won't be there. And a part of me is already missing him.

Eventually, the loud blaring noise that is my alarm clock fills the otherwise silent room and rips me from my thoughts. I barely slept a wink all night. I reach over and automatically hit the snooze button. My eyelids feel like bricks as they slowly flutter shut, my head sinks into my pillow, everything is warm and comfortable. I don't want to move. One of the downsides to being Ladybug is the sleep deprivation. I've always been one to sleep in, I've never been a morning person, but my habits only became worse when I took on the role of Ladybug. I should probably get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and at least attempt to make it to school on time. But I just can't bring myself to take my head off of the pillow. I just want to stay in my bed for just a few more minutes, a few more hours maybe. Maybe years. I know that staying in bed all day is not going to be beneficial to me, especially when I still have so much work to finish for my portfolio. And then there's midterms, which I need to do well on if I want to be considered Central Saint Martins material. Ah, the joys of being seventeen and stressed twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. If this is what stress feels like now, I can't wait to see what it will be like in a year when I have all of my essays due in the same week.

"Marinette!" I hear my mother call.

I don't respond. She calls me two more times before I hear her climb the steps to my bedroom, the hatch creaking eerily as she opens it. She almost never wakes me unless there's something important going on, or if she's just completely annoyed. My guess is that today is the second one. The sugary sweetness of her voice is replaced by a stern tone that she only uses when she's cross with me. I pull the duvet off of my face and see her standing in her apron, covered in flour from today's bread batch. She has her hands on her hips and her eyes are narrowed at me.

"You know, I won't be in England to wake you up." Her voice is so serious, which means that she really must be annoyed with me.

I close my eyes again.

"I know, mom." I mumble.

"I know that you know," She tells me, climbing the ladder to the loft where my bed lies. I sit up in my bed, removing myself from the warmth of my comforter, my room is oddly frigid this morning. I must have left the window open or something. Mom sits next to me, now that I have a closer look at her, I can see that there's flour on her face and in her hair. She must have come up to shower before opening the bakery for the day and decided to check up on me. "You are so content on going away and being independent, and you've more than proven that you are turning into a capable adult. But you need to break this habit of sleeping through your alarm, alright?"

I know that she's right. I'm not fifteen anymore, I can't afford to wake up later and miss any class time, especially with midterms and finals coming soon. I'm almost an adult, I need to act like one too. And I'm an adult that will hopefully be living abroad in a few months, that is if I can get my profile done on time. But I've been so tired lately. She can probably see it on my face, I can practically feel the dark bags hanging underneath my eyes. That is going to take a ton of makeup to cover up. I raise my hand to my eyes, wiping out the blurry haze of sleep. My head is pounding and aching, I rub my temple in a slow circle.

"I'm trying my best." I tell her, and it's the truth. I am trying harder to wake up on time. I haven't been late for school in over a month, which is definitely my record since I became Ladybug.

"I know that, sweetheart." She tells me, kissing the top of my head before she begins to descend the ladder. "Please go to bed early tonight, I know that you want to finish your portfolio but you being this tired isn't healthy."

I know that she's concerned about me. I know that everything that she does is out of love for me, and she knows that I appreciate everything that she has done for me. When I first told her about Central Saint Martins, about how I wanted to go to London, she was my number one supporter. My dad was hesitant to even let me apply at first, but my mom understood. Paris was too small for me now, and there was a wide world of adventure and possibility waiting for me. In some way, I always knew that I wasn't going to stay in Paris forever. She admitted that she was a little bit surprised, she didn't think that I would want to go away for school. And, at first, I wasn't going to apply. I didn't think that I would be good enough to get into the best fashion school in the world. If Tikki hadn't forced me to fill out the application, then I never would have done it. I owe that little kwami a lot.

After my mother leaves, I force myself out of my bed. I go about my morning routine the way I always do, brush my hair and teeth, change into whatever is clean. I grab a croissant on my way out the door. One of the privileges of living across the street from my school is that I can afford to leave later. I can hear the five minute warning bell from my bedroom window and still make it to class before the late bell chimes. There are not a lot of people hanging around outside of the school when I climb the front steps. There's a small group of people talking about the newest episode of some television show that I've never heard of, someone else is sitting on a bench with their nose in a book. I don't see Alya or anyone else from class, so I continue on my route. The classroom is filled with chatter by the time I get there. Alya waves to me from her seat, I smile when I see her. After everything that happened with Chat Noir yesterday, I need some kind of normal.

I fall into the seat next to Alya, she has the biggest smile on her face. Her phone, as always, is glued to her hand.

"What's up?" She asks.

"Tired." I groan, laying my head down on the desk.

The seat in front of me is empty. Adrien must not be here yet. Nino is in front of me, leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk, bopping his head to some song that I can't hear. My eyes travel back to Adrien's empty seat. I wonder where he is. Did he sleep in? Is he on his way? Running up the steps of the school, checking the time on his phone to make sure he wasn't too late for homeroom. Or maybe he had a photoshoot this morning and wasn't going to be here until the afternoon. Maybe he wasn't coming to school at all. If I had still been fifteen, I probably would have asked, spent the whole day wondering what sort of things Adrien was up to. But today, Adrien's absence felt as mundane and uninteresting as any other classmate being absent.

"You're always tired." Alya smirks. "You're lucky that London doesn't have a whole new time zone to get use to, or else you might miss all of your classes."

"That would be just my luck." I replied without looking at her.

"Speaking of which," She continues. "How is your portfolio coming along?"

I'm actually really close to finishing my portfolio. I already have most of the garments that I will be sending photographs of, and I've got to pick the right designs to send in. It's funny to think about how my entire life is in the hands of a bunch of silly little scribbles.

"It's coming." I reply flatly.

Adrien doesn't show up until the afternoon. It's not odd that he's late, he usually has some sort of photoshoot or fitting to attend to. That was just his life, there wasn't anything abnormal about that. But there was something rather peculiar about him that day. Adrien walked into class with a large bandage on his nose. Everyone in the class watched him, silently wondering what had happened. We were all curious. It's not every day that someone comes into class in the middle of the day with a bandaged face.

"Dude," Nino finally said as Adrien sat down in the seat in front of mine. "What happened to your face?"

I was listening intently. Not in a creepy stalker way, obviously. Everyone was listening. We were all curious. It took everything in me to not fall out of my chair when two stupid words came out of the beautiful blonde boy's mouth. I bit my lip to keep myself from making any noise. I must have heard him wrong. I must have. There was no way that he just said what I think I just heard, right? It made no sense, but at the same time, it made complete and total sense.

Those two stupid words, the worst excuse on the planet. One that only Chat Noir himself could ever come up with.

"Fencing accident."

* * *

-Adrien-

I couldn't sleep again that night. There was too much stuff weighing on my mind. There was school, which was completely uneventful. There was modelling, which I'm not going to be doing until my nose heals. I wish that I had a camera so that I could have taken a picture of my father's face when he found out that he had to cancel today's photoshoot. And then, there was her. A stunning girl in a red suit with the most captivating blue eyes that I've ever seen. She wasn't mine, that part I knew. Just because she kissed me once and mended a broken nose didn't in the least make her mine. But it made her something, it made her somebody important. And she liked that kiss, I knew that for a fact now. She liked kissing me. Ladybug liked kissing me. I couldn't wait to see her again, I was counting down to our next patrol, right down to the millisecond. I realize that I spent so much time trying to convince her to communicate that I completely forgot to thank her for tending to my battle wounds. Of course, everyone wanted to know how I managed to break my nose. I was too lazy to come up with a better excuse than a fencing accident, so that is exactly what I told people. Luckily, nobody seemed to bat an eye.

I'm lying in my bed, my phone in hand, alternating between scrolling through social media and watching cat videos, when I hear it. There's a tapping noise coming from just outside the window. For a moment, I pass it off as a tree branch, or maybe a squirrel. But then it continues. Tap tap on my window pane. Tap tap in the darkness of the night. There's a shadow cast on the wall, a fairly human shaped shadow moving gracefully across my bedroom. I turn towards the window, my eyes widen when I recognize her. Hanging just outside of my window by the string of her yo-yo, in a red suit with black polkadots, is Ladybug. I immediately bolted upright in my bed, pushing the comforter off of my body. I push myself up off of my bed, completely forgetting that all I'm wearing are my sweatpants, and creep over to the window. What is she doing here? Why is Ladybug tapping on my window in the middle of the night? Okay, it's only ten at night, but that doesn't make this any less strange.

The evening air is cool on my skin as I open the window. I'm suddenly aware of my bare chest, as the evening breeze hits my flesh. I should probably throw something, at least a tee shirt, over my body, cover myself with something. But then Ladybug swings into my room, and all thoughts of covering myself are completely forgotten. She stands in front of me. I'm suddenly aware of how short she is, how tiny her waist is, how her suit hugs every curve of her body. I'm also aware of her face. It's so dark in my room, the only lights are moonlight and streetlights streaming through the open window. Although I can hardly see her face, her expression is not that hard to read. Behind her mask, her blue eyes are filled with pain, sorrow, and also intense fear. What could have happened to make her feel such distress?

"Ladybug," I finally find my voice, it's barely a whisper, but it's there. "What are you-"

"Good evening, Chat." She says the words so flat and monotone that I can't tell what she's feeling.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. How did she find out? How does she know that it's me? Maybe I could play this off as a joke. Maybe I could tell her that she's wrong, that she's paranoid or something. But I know that the look on my face has already given me away. My eyes have widened to the size of saucers, my jaw hung open, I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. I have also forgotten how to stand on two legs, I am now gripping the edge of my desk for support. I look at her again, and there's this fire in her eyes that can't be ignored. And that's when I knew that there was no chance that I could ever lie to her. We've always had an honest relationship, I'm not going to screw this up now. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she would tell me who she was too. I looked at her again, she looks so completely heartbroken. Is she- disappointed? Angry? Sad? I don't know. All I know is that the silence is building a wall between us, and I don't know how to turn it into a bridge.

"Well?" She asks, her voice is low and cracking slightly. "Am I wrong?"

I can see them in the moonlight, her eyes are glossy with tears, but she's holding them back. She doesn't want to cry in front of me. Her entire face is screaming "lie to me, dammit!" But I can't. I can't lie to her about something like this. I can't lie, and yet I don't know what to say to her. Whenever I pictured a reveal between the two of us, it was never like this. In my daydreams, a reveal between us was something out of a fairytale. We would tell each other who we really were, we would confess our undying love, and live happily ever after. But life can never be a fairytale. I always knew that those scenarios were unrealistic. That our reveal wouldn't be sweet and romantic like I had always pictured. But I at least hoped that our reveal would be a positive thing, that we would be alright in the end. Not like this. Not some one-sided thing where only one of us knows the other's true identity. And now I'm looking at her. She was a goddess amongst man, the most beautiful angel in all of heaven. She was the smartest, funniest, most amazing girl that I've ever had the honour of meeting. My heart twists painfully as I watch her, she squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to let her tears fall.

"My Lady-" I try to reach out to her, to put my hand on her shoulder, but she takes a large step back.

Of course she doesn't want you touching her right now, idiot. Give her some personal space. Comfort her without touching her. I'm too terrified to say anything to her, I don't want to accidentally offend her. I can't screw up my friendship with one of the only people who truly matters to me. Her tears finally escaped her eyes, falling down over the material of her mask and cascading down her rosy cheeks, which are covered in the most adorable freckles that you've ever seen. I want to reach out and touch her face, wipe away her tears, but I respect her boundaries. So as much as it pains me to see her in this state, I stand still as a statue, while my own heart slowly shatters.

"My Lady," I try again. I maintain a good distance this time, resisting the urge to hold her.

I'm unsure of what to do. I don't know how to comfort her. I don't know who she truly is, and she is just now finding out who I am. So I just ask one question. The simplest question of all questions.

"How did you find out?" I finally squeak out, I hadn't even realized how much I was shaking.

She finally looks up at me, tears glossy in her eyes. Her face in the moonlight sends butterflies directly to my stomach, and breaks my heart even further. She looks so unbelievably devastated. Why is she this upset about finding out who I am? Is she shocked because I'm a semi-famous model? Is she angry that I didn't tell her? Or is there something that I'm not getting? She wouldn't be this torn up about finding out who I was unless-

"You couldn't think of a better lie to tell your friends?" She inquired, she sounded angry, but not in a way that sounded hurt or judgemental. She sounded sad and empty. "You went with a 'fencing accident,' really Chat? Or should I call you Adrien now?"

Unless I meant something to her.

I told my friends about the fencing accident in class. Which meant that Ladybug would only know that if she had been there. Which meant that Ladybug was in my class. The girl standing in front of me, the girl that I have been fighting crime with for four years, the girl that I am so hopelessly devoted to, is one of my classmates.

"You, you're-" I can't quite form sentences, my words don't create any meaning.

"Do you know who I am, Adrien?" She whispers, she doesn't yell, she doesn't sound angry. She simply sounds broken, and yet she spits out my name like it's a curse.

I mean something to her. Something that goes beyond simply being her crime fighting companion. I take a small step closer to her, I'm slightly surprised when she lets me. She closes her eyes again as I observe her in the dim light.

"I thought that you'd remember your princess." She whispers.

My face scrunches in confusion for a moment, but then I see it. Her pigtails are the first thing I notice, soft ebony hair tied back and away from her beautiful face. Her stature is second, she's short but she has this authority and ferocity to her that makes her seem so much taller. And when she shouts she sounds exactly like somebody else that I know, somebody with a heart of gold and a passion for helping others. Somebody so creative and free that it always made me wonder if I'd have feelings for her if Ladybug wasn't around. They have the same fierceness, the same undying loyalty, the same fervor. I had seen it so many times in the both of them, and now I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. Then she opens her eyes. Brilliant, blue, and hold the universe inside of them. Nothing compares to the sparkle in her eyes, not the stars, not even all of the lights in Paris. How many times have I looked into those eyes? A thousand? A million? There's no doubt. I know exactly who those eyes belong to.

"Marinette?" It comes out as a question instead of a statement. But a very subtle nod of her head confirms my suspicion.

She turns away from me and saunters back towards the window, and I can do nothing but watch her leave. My heart beats faster and harder with each step she takes. She reaches for the yo-yo on her hip and freezes. For a brief moment, there is a tiny glimmer of hope in my eyes. A hope that maybe she'll stay. Maybe we'll talk. Maybe we can get through this together. But then she turns around, a blank expression crossing her face. And my heart immediately sinks in my chest.

"Don't talk to me at school." She states. I can tell by the sting in her voice that just saying those words is painful for her, but they still make my heart feel heavy in my chest. "Don't-" She chokes on her own words, obviously holding back a sob. "Don't follow me."

And then she's gone. She's leaps out of the window and disappears like smoke into the night, she turns into dust in the wind and fades away into nothing. I'm alone, I'm completely alone. I've always been alone. And now I've lost the one thing that made me feel whole, like I was wanted, like I was loved. Even if she didn't love me in the same way that I loved her, she cared when nobody else did. She's always cared about me. And now I accidentally ruined everything. I don't feel my legs fall out underneath me, I don't feel gravity pulling me to the floor, I don't stop the tears that pool in my eyes and blur my vision. I don't stop them from falling. I can no longer breathe, I can no longer speak. My heart beats faster, and I just wish that it would stop. I just want to be out of this, I want to stop the pain and suffering. Why am I doomed to be alone? Why does everyone I love leave me? Why- why am I not good enough?

I felt Plagg float over to me and sit on my shoulder, patting the back of my head comfortingly. He didn't say anything, and I was grateful. I should be happy. I know who my Lady is. She's been right behind me this whole time, I was just too oblivious to see it. My Lady was here. My Lady knew who I was. She was beautiful, and perfect, and she was Marinette. And I was such a fucking idiot. I scream into my pillow, loudly, I didn't care if somebody heard me. Then I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take me away from this awful reality.

It doesn't come.

* * *

 **So the other day my sister said "what if Marinette get's really mad at Adrien one day and yells at him and he's just like 'she sounds just like Ladybug when she yells at me' then he's like, oh shi-" That would be an interesting reveal.**

 **I was also listening to Spirits by Strumbellas on repeat while I was writing this. IDK why, my mom says the song reminds her of me.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, the next one is back in the hospital.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	7. Say It

Say It

 **Back in the hospital with angst and tears. I don't own this show, I just enjoy writing about it.**

* * *

-Marinette-

I could have been crying on that floor for days, maybe even weeks. It felt like eternity even though it had only been five minutes. I was lying on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, I couldn't even bring myself to stand up from the dirty hospital floor. I was breathing, and yet I felt like I was dead. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest, but I still felt frozen, dead. I felt like there was nothing. Then I was screaming, tugging at my hair, banging my fists against the white tile floor. I ignored the pain that shot up my arms with the impact, allowing my knuckles to become swollen and red. No. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. No, no. She has to be okay. She's going to wake up. Everything is going to be alright. This is a dream. It has to be. In a second I'm going to wake up in the back of my parent's car and everyone is going to be alright. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, count to three, then open them again. All I see is the white walls of the hospital room, my mother's body lying lifeless on the table. My knees quake as I struggle to stand, I grip the edge of the table for support. I squeeze my eyes shut one last time, pinch myself, and reopen them. And I'm screaming again, this time my throat stings with pain and I can faintly taste the blood in my mouth. This is real. This is happening. She's dead. Her frozen body lies on a table covered by a white blanket. She isn't moving, or breathing, her heart isn't beating. I can't look anymore, but I don't want to look away. I don't want her to disappear. I feel like a part of me has been ripped out, like there is a piece of my soul that is missing now. I will never be whole again, I know that now. The pain of losing her is a wound that will never heal.

She won't be here with me anymore. Who will I go to when I need advice? Who will I talk to about my future? Who will I show my design ideas to? Who will give me guy advice? She won't be able to see me on the day I graduate from lychee. She won't see me off on my first day of university. We'll never open presents together on Christmas morning. She won't be there at my first big fashion show, cheering me on from the front row. She won't help me pick out a white dress. She won't be at my wedding. She will never be able to spoil her grandchildren with homemade chocolates or special birthday cakes. She will never smile at me, nor hold my hand. She is gone. Now there is nothing left of her but an empty, lifeless vessel. She didn't deserve this. She deserved a long, beautiful, happy life. She deserved to live to old age, to have many adventures before retiring. She should have had a hundred years, now she would only have forty-seven.

I'm on the floor again, hugging my knees to my chest my head hung low, crying. I can't accept this. I can't accept that my mother is lying on a table in a hospital, that she's dead. I can't accept that my father is somewhere in this hospital, lying in a bed that isn't his own. Oh God, please let him be okay. I can't do this alone. I can't live without them. I need them. I need to smell fresh croissants in the bakery every morning. I need to hear my father humming while he prepares to open the shop. I need someone to talk to about my hopes and dreams, I need someone to talk to when I'm anxious. I need someone to remind me that everything will be alright.

I hardly register the door opening and closing as the doctor and nurse from before walk in. Their conversation is nothing but white noise as they wander around the room. I am still invisible to them. They can't hear me cry or scream, they can't see the distressed look on my face. They don't see that I'm hurting. I'm nothing but a ghost, a phantom, a nothing. My ears only prick up when I hear my name.

"Only seventeen." It's the nurse who said my name, he's reading off of a clipboard. "Do you think she'll make it?"

The doctor sighs, she opens one of the cabinets and takes out a box of disposable latex-free gloves. She hands a pair to the nurse before slipping a pair on herself.

"With the head trauma she received plus three broken ribs," She whispers, her voice cracks ever so slightly. "She's obviously a fighter, but our best efforts might not be enough this time."

So that's it? I'm going to die?

"And the man, Tom?" The nurse is reading off the clipboard again.

The pair start walking out of the room. I force myself off the cold floor, my legs wobble and quake, like I'm a small child taking my first steps. I take a second to steady myself before following the doctor and nurse out into the hallway. I hear a phone ringing, I see another nurse rush by, someone sitting in a plastic chair lets out a loud sneeze. The nurse and doctor continue down the hall, I follow close behind, hoping to have some insight on my father's condition.

"The woman took most of the impact," The doctor replied. "But the man isn't looking too good either."

My father isn't doing too good. Just the thought of what the information suggested was terrifying. He's dying. He can't die. He needs to bake fresh croissants for when he opens the bakery tomorrow. He needs to be standing at the counter with a smiling face, greeting the regular morning customers when they come in for breakfast. And my mom needs to be by his side, with a matching friendly smile, welcoming everyone who walked through the door. But that will never happen again. Even if he survives, he isn't going to reopen the bakery, not without mama. It would be too painful. Baking was the thing that brought them together, maybe it would be too painful to do it on his own. He's going to be gone soon too, isn't he? Even if he survives, a part of him will die with my mother. Why isn't he here? Why isn't he with me? Is he wandering around the hospital outside of his body as well? Are there others here too? Waiting to see whether or not they'd live or die? And if there are, why can't I see them? Why can't I talk to them? It would make this whole experience so much easier.

"What about the other driver?" The nurse asks, shaking me from my thoughts.

What happened to the other driver? What happened to the bastard that took my parents from me? I suddenly feel an intense rage take over my entire body, my blood begins to boil in my veins, like my entire body is on fire. My jaw clenches tightly as I listen for the doctor's response. I'm not sure if I want to hear that the other person was alright. One the one hand, I was Ladybug and as Ladybug I should care for the wellbeing of all Paris' citizens, on the other he was a drunken maniac who killed my mom. I remember reading once that most drunk drivers kill other people in crashes, as they are so relaxed that the impact barely phases them. It's his own stupid fault that my mother is dead. The doctor pauses for a moment, a tight lipped frown crosses her face. She lets out a breath, she shakes her head slowly as though she's trying to keep her frustration under control.

"The drunk was barely scratched." She practically seethes

I want to punch someone right then and there. You don't get to drink yourself stupid, kill someone, and walk away without a fucking scratch. My mom is gone because of him. I feel my heart rate quickly increase, breathing becomes increasingly harder as I struggle to gasp for air. The longer I stand in the hallway, the more dizzy I feel. The walls seem to move and swim, my vision becomes blurry as black dots begin to obscure the picture in front of me. My eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each passing second. I don't feel myself fall to the floor, I can't see anything but black. Fuck, fuck, I'm dying. Okay, stay away from the white light, I think that's the first rule. If that even is a rule. I try to keep my eyes open, but sleep suddenly feels so good.

I take one last deep breath before the world plunges into complete darkness.

* * *

-Adrien-

Tikki hasn't said anything for the last five minutes. She simply sits comfortably on my shoulder, just out of view as we make our way back to the waiting room. It's sad to think that this isn't the first time she has had to go through this. How many times has Tikki watched Ladybug die? How many have died suddenly fighting wars or tyrants? How many has she gotten attached to just to say goodbye again? This shouldn't have happened, none of this should have happened. Marinette had to live, she had to be Ladybug again. Tikki shouldn't have to say goodbye to her just yet. She should never have to say goodbye. Marinette deserved a beautiful life, she deserved to get everything that she wanted, she deserved the world. A small part of me wondered if she still wanted to spend that life with me, but I don't blame her if she doesn't. I was so selfish with her, so incredibly stupid, I didn't think about what she wanted. I didn't take her hopes and dreams into consideration. Besides, I'd probably only hold her back.

I enter the waiting room, which smells very strongly of disinfectant. Nino looks up at me when I walk in, then back down at his hands. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap, his foot restlessly tapping. Alya is sitting next to him, still in a state of shock. She's staring at the floor with tears in her eyes, they fall down her cheek but she doesn't have the energy to wipe them. Marinette's grandparents are standing on the other side of the room when I walk in, they are talking to a woman whom I'm guessing is Marinette's aunt. The woman has tears in her eyes as well, she must have just heard the news. Although this was Tom's sister, she had probably known Sabine very well. I feel my heart twist in my chest. Marinette lost her mother today, forever. She lost someone who she loved and cared for very much. I remember when I found out that my mom was gone, when Nathalie informed me that she was missing. It was the worst day of my life, I sat on my bed and cried for hours, I wasn't sure of what to do. For a long time, I thought that she'd come back. I'd hear the phone ring, or a knock at the door and I hoped that it was her. It never was. I would spend hours alone in my room, wondering if it was because of me. I couldn't help but feel like I had done something wrong, that everything was my fault. That my mother would still be here if it were not for me. The worst part was, I didn't have anyone there for me. My father locked himself in his room and he refused to come out for weeks, he didn't talk to me, he never once asked me about how I was feeling. That made everything immensely harder. I hope that when Marinette wakes up, she has someone there for her. And she will, her father is going to be fine. They'll get through this together. I say this as though I know for sure, but I don't. No one has given us an update on Marinette's condition. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. No news is good news, right? She could be on her way to recovery right now, she might be alright. Or she might still be in the operating room, fighting for her life. I try to relax in my seat. I try to read the outdated magazines that lie on the side table, I watch the news as the anchorman gives traffic updates. But no matter how hard I try to relax, I can't. The atmosphere is too tense, everyone is too quiet, like they're afraid to say something. But what can you say? What do you talk about in a hospital waiting room? This is why I hate these places.

Feeling uncomfortable, I step out of the room and into the hallway. It's just as quiet in the hallway as it is in the waiting room, the smell of disinfectant still lingers. I hate that smell so much. And yet, I breathe it in.

"Psst." It's Plagg again.

"What do you want?" I ask him, leaning back against the colourless wall.

"This might be a bad time," He starts. "But what are you going to do if-"

"Don't talk like that." I interrupt him. I look away from the kwami and instead watch the wall clock, the hands turning agonizingly slowly.

"I don't want to talk like this, but one of us has to be realistic." He counters.

I feel my blood begin to boil in my veins, my hands ball into tight fists. I was being realistic, I was just also trying to be optimistic at the same time. Pessimistic cat doesn't know anything, Marinette is going to be alright.

"You don't think that I'm being realistic?" I fumed, I could feel my temperature rising.

"Breathe." Plagg practically demands.

And I do. I take a deep breath and cool myself down.

"All I'm asking is," He continues. "Will you continue being Chat Noir once all of this is over?"

I stood in the hallway, contemplating my answer. Before I got my miraculous, before I became Chat Noir, my life was empty and meaningless. For the first fifteen years of my life I was stuck inside of a lonely mansion, I couldn't even leave my house without a chaperone. A broken prince trapped in a tower. A prison disguised as a heaven. A house that never felt like home. I had always known that something was missing from my life, but I didn't know what it was until I became Chat Noir. And then she came crashing into my life, and I mean literally crashing. She was the first person who made me feel whole, like I wasn't alone. She was the sun and the stars, the moon and the universe. She was my best friend. She was home. The last few months haven't been our best. The night she confronted me about my secret identity ranks as one of the worst nights in my entire life. I remember feeling that emptiness all over again, and how desperately I tried to feel whole again. Now I feel that emptiness even more, like someone has ripped out a part of me. It's like getting amputated, or losing one of your senses, something has been taken and I may never get it back. Marinette was my whole world, and being Chat Noir without her by my side felt wrong. It just wouldn't be right. I couldn't imagine fighting crime with anybody else. No, I couldn't fight crime with anybody else. It would feel like I was betraying her. If in the highly unlikely event that Tikki should have to choose a new Ladybug, then Plagg would have to choose a new Chat Noir too.

"Not if she isn't with me." My voice is barely a whisper, but Plagg hears. He hangs his head sadly, but he still nods politely.

Plagg ducks into my shirt pocket as a nurse rushes by, a rather flustered look on his face. He doesn't acknowledge me as he enters the waiting room. It has to be about Marinette, I know it. I reentered the room, just behind the nurse. I take my seat beside Nino as the nurse discusses something with Marinette's grandparents. Nino and I watch the encounter intently, looking for any sign of good news. Nobody smiles, but nobody frowns or starts crying either. Marinette's grandmother follows the nurse while her grandfather takes a seat next to the brunette woman.

"Is everything alright?" The woman asks.

"She's still in surgery," The older man replied. "They just needed someone to answer a few questions."

The woman takes a deep breath, her voice comes out shaky. "Did they say whether or not she was any better?"

The older man looks over at the three of us, his expression is grave. My heart sinks as I realize he doesn't have good news. I don't blame him for hesitating. How do you deliver bad news to kids? How do you tell three teenagers that their best friend is dying? He sighs.

"Until she gets out of surgery," He replies, sadly. "There's no guarantee."

Alya stands up and walks out of the room, I can hear her breathing heavily from where I'm sitting. Her mother follows her, I spy her taking a packet of tissues out of her purse. Poor Alya, I feel like crying too. No guarantee. There is no definitive answer as to whether Marinette will live or die. I can feel the tears beginning to pool in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I blink a few times, trying to push them back. Everything I've done, I want to take it all back. I want to go back to the night everything went wrong and hold her in my arms. I want to tell her that everything will be okay, that we'll make it through everything together. But I can't go back in time. I can't take back the words that I said that night. Marinette's last memory of me will be us fighting, instead of saying 'I love you.' I don't notice the tear that escapes my eye, nor do I feel like wiping it away.

I close my eyes and silently pray that I'll get the chance to right my wrongs. That I'll get to say 'I love you' again.

Just like I should have that night.

* * *

 **I'm going to be cosplaying as Ladybug for my city's annual fan convention, I've already painted the mask and bought the earrings. Now I just need to dust off the sewing machine. My brother is angry that I don't wanna go as Dipper and Mabel. I feel like we're already Dipper and Mabel IRL because we're twins and he's the bookish one and he loves mystery novels, meanwhile I'm pretty much the real Mabel Pines.**

 **Next chapter is flashback, I've finished it but I still need to proof read before posting.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	8. Say You'll Fight

Say You'll Fight

 **If you can't tell by the title, I'm quickly running out of 'say-' but I'm trying. I meant to have this up yesterday, but I got sidetracked by pokemon. I do not own this show, I just like writing fanfiction based on it.**

* * *

-Marinette-

Adrien was Chat Noir. Adrien freaking Agreste was Chat fucking Noir. Sweet, gentle, respectful Adrien Agreste was charming, flirtatious, courageous Chat Noir. I have been fighting crime with Adrien Agreste for nearly four years. Adrien Agreste has flirted with me repeatedly for four fucking year, and I've been rejecting him. Me! Chat Noir is the same boy that I have had a huge crush on since I was fourteen years old. I have been unknowingly rejecting the boy who I have a huge crush on. The thought didn't make me feel sad, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I felt. I wasn't disappointed, I wasn't angry, I was just shocked, I guess? There was this weird ache in my chest, like someone was holding my heart in their hand, squeezing it tightly just enough to bring me pain. It was nearly enough to kill me. There was also this intense feeling of longing, it overwhelmed me, made my mind return to thoughts of him. The same smile, the same laugh, the same eyes. Adrien was Chat Noir. And now he knew that I was Ladybug. Now he had a face to put to the faceless girl that was so enamoured with. But he was only in love with one side of me. I knew that for certain, which is why I didn't wait around for him to reject me.

Okay, so maybe I jumped the gun on that one. I wasn't positive that he would reject me. Waves of self-loathing and doubt suddenly crash over me. I feel the sudden urge to go back to his window and apologize. Talk to him, work everything out. Be his friend again, his partner, let him kiss me senselessly. No, Marinette, no. Don't go there you filthy, dirty mind. Adrien or Chat Noir, he still loves Ladybug, not you. While I had learned to care for both, he only wanted the version of me that was perfect and desirable. What if he thinks that of me as well? Does he think that I prefer the perfect model Adrien Agreste to the flirty Chat Noir? A few months ago, I would have said yes. But it was the day we defeated Hawkmoth that I got that first sinking feeling. Chat Noir had evolved in my mind, he became so much more than just my silly companion, more than just my friend. He became something brave and beautiful. I hadn't planned on kissing him that night on the Eiffel tower, and I wasn't sure how to feel about it afterwards. Shit, now I really didn't know how to feel about it.

The unmistakeable ding of the oven timer forces me out of my thoughts. I slip on the green oven mitts and open the oven, a wave of heat immediately hitting my face. The steam makes my face glisten with sweat and I reach in to grab the tray of freshly baked pastries. The tarts are warm and soft, they smell absolutely irresistible. My stomach growls in longing, but I know that I can't eat the merchandise. Plus, Mama will call me up for dinner soon, so I won't be down here for much longer. I place the tray of pastries on the counter to cool and slip another tray of unbaked cookies into the oven before setting the timer. I collapse into a chair, wiping any remaining flour off of my apron. It's been a tiring day. I only got a few hours of sleep, my head has been throbbing in pain, I feel like I'm going to throw up. The only reason why I even went to school was because we have a big test in a few days and I can't afford to miss anything. I sigh heavily and slump over in my chair, relaxing all of the muscles in my body. Luckily, Adrien had respected my wishes and didn't talk to me today. He seemed upset, he had his head down for most of class today. The sight made me feel even more guilty than I already do. Why can't I just apologize to him? Why can't I talk to him like a normal human? Because these are our secret identities that we're talking about. I always knew that him finding out would result in one of two extremes. Extreme disappointment, realizing just how lame I am when I'm not Ladybug and ditch me. Or he could just be extremely happy to finally know the name of the girl behind the mask, and then confess his undying love for some random girl that he hardly knows. Neither scenario was fairly appealing to me.

I hear the bell above the front door jingle, indicating the arrival of a new customer. Simultaneously, the timer on the oven beeps again, letting me know that the cookies are done. I hear my father talking to somebody outside, the customer must be one of our regulars. The heat blasts me in the face again a the aroma of shortbread cookies fills my nostrils. My stomach lurches again, I can never work in this damn kitchen without feeling the need to eat everything.

"Marinette!" I hear my father's voice call me as I set the tray aside to cool. His head appears in the doorway to the kitchen, a suspicious smile on his face. "I need you to take care of this customer while I help your mother with dinner."

He's smiling like a complete idiot, so I know he's hiding something. I slip the green oven mitts off of my hands and hang them on the appropriate hook. When I was little and Papa was teaching me how to cook, I had completely forgotten to wear the oven mitts while retrieving my very first tray of muffins from the oven. The burns on my little hands, and the long lecture about kitchen safety that followed afterward, were extremely painful. I still have the tiniest scar on the palm of my left hand. Papa didn't leave me alone in the kitchen until I was fourteen, he couldn't risk his little girl accidentally starting a kitchen fire. That would be just my luck now wouldn't it? I turn off the oven before taking the batch of, now cool, pastries into the bakery.

"Hello, how may I-" I almost drop the tray when I see who is standing in front of the counter.

I take in his tousled blonde hair and perfect smile. I take in his face, which is chiseled and perfect despite the broken nose wrapped in white gauze. His green eyes burn into me as he looks at me, but his stare doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. He has his arms crossed at his chest, and he's awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. I can see now just how forced his smile is, how he is hiding something beneath that smile, something painful. I'm taken back to last night, all of those things I said to him, and all of the things that I should have said. My heart twists and breaks in my chest, and suddenly the burns that I recieved on my hands all of those years ago don't seem so bad. This pain wouldn't leave, it would haunt me, and it was excruciating. I hurt him, I hurt myself. And I didn't even really know if he was going to hurt me. I just kept leaping to conclusions when we should have had an actual conversation.

"Hey." He says, trying his best to keep his smile up.

I start placing the pastries in the display case to avoid eye contact with him.

"What do you want, Adrien?" The words come out much more harshly than I meant to. "I told you not to talk to me."

"You told me not to talk to you at school." He reminds me. "This isn't school."

God dammit, Marinette. You couldn't have told him to stay away from you period? No, of course you couldn't. Because he was Adrien. Chat Noir just had to turn out to be Adrien. If he was anyone else in the entire world… I finally look at him. His smile has faded. I feel another pang of guilt. Did I want him to be anyone else? No. It's like now that I know it's him, I don't want him to be anyone else. Finding out that Chat Noir was Adrien was unexpected, I didn't even think that I knew him. I guess that I always just assumed that I would be able to pick Chat Noir out of a crowd, now I realize that I can't even tell when he's been sitting in front of me in class for four years.

"Point taken." I whisper, placing the empty tray on the counter.

"I need to talk to you." He tells me.

My stomach fills with butterflies again, a lump forms in my throat. I want to say so many things to him. But I can't find the words.

"Do you regret kissing me now?" His voice is so soft and polite, but I can hear the grief, the torment that he is trying so desperately to hide. Honestly, it makes me feel even worse for yelling at him.

It was a good question. One that I didn't know the answer to. I had always dreamed about kissing Adrien, and now I know that I have. Just not in the way that I wanted to. He wanted to kiss me too. But a me that wasn't me. Adrien loved Ladybug. There was no doubt in my mind. Adrien loved a perfect version of me, he didn't love this version of me. And why would he? The girl with childish pigtails who can't walk into a room without comedically tripping over everything. Of course he likes the girl who watches over Paris at night, the one that everyone admires and adores. He loves a perfect girl, and she isn't me.

"Are you disappointed?" His voice penetrates my thoughts.

Did he just ask what I think that he just ask? Did he seriously ask if I was disappointed in who he turned out to be? Me? Disappointed in him? He has every right to be disappointed in who I turned out to be. I was just the plain, simple girl that sat behind him in class. There was nothing special about me. Why would he ever care? He looks terrified, his eyes are wide, his lips pressed tightly together, he doesn't make eye contact with me, not really.

"No," I finally tell him. He lets out a small breath, one that he thinks that I don't notice. I also notice the small wave of relief that washes over his face before he locks eyes with me. "I'm not disappointed."

"Than what's wrong?" He's leaning against the counter now, he's so close that I can feel the warmth of his body heat radiating off of him. I can feel his breath, smell his cologne. It is completely intoxicating, so I take another step back.

What is wrong? The silence between us is uncomfortable and slightly terrifying. Both of us want to speak, but neither of us knows what to say. I look down at the floor tiles, then at my shoes, I hadn't noticed that I was tapping my foot. Why can't I talk to him? Why can't I tell them what my problem is?

"I don't know." I finally tell him. "I'm… Shocked, to say the least. And, I don't know, I just found out that one of my closest friends is also the guy that I've been sneaking off with every night for the last four years."

I open my mouth to say more, but no more words come out. Adrien looks intrigued, but I can't bring myself to continue. To be honest, I don't really know what I'm supposed to say. In that moment, I wanted to cry. But I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay calm. He was Adrien. He was my friend. He was Chat Noir. He was my companion. We fought the forces of evil side by side, an unstoppable team, and we triumphed together. So I sigh and remove my apron, hanging it on a hook by the kitchen door. Adrien stares at me, puzzled for a minute. It's nearing six in the afternoon, dinner has probably been on the table for a while. I turn towards the door leading up to my apartment.

"Mari?" Adrien calls.

My breath hitches, my heart pounds faster. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. I don't look at him. I know that the second I look at Adrien that I'm going to start crying my eyes out. I don't think that either of us will know how to cope with that. I remind myself that he never said that he was disappointed, or angry, or sad. He never said that he regretted kissing me. But that doesn't mean that he feels the same for Marinette that he feels for me. Adrien and Chat Noir. You'd think that between the two boys that one of them would have real feelings towards me. But, sadly, that wasn't the case.

"We're all different people behind the masks," I say without turning around to look at him. "All those things that she is, brave, strong, confident… She isn't me. And you…"

"What?" His voice is harsh now. "What am I?"

"You were a dream," I tell him as I turn the door handle. "And I've just woken up."

* * *

-Adrien-

She leaves me standing in the bakery, wondering what the hell I did wrong. The sunlight flows in through the windows, the shop glistens and shines like silver. And everything smells like Marinette. I have to take a seat for a moment, my head in my hands, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of vanilla. She was Ladybug. Marinette was Ladybug. She was the kind, brave, selfless heroine of Paris. This was a fact that I knew now. She said that she wasn't disappointed in who I turned out to be, and yet she rejected me.

"You want to head home now, loverboy?" I hear Plagg's voice from inside of my pocket.

After who knows how long, I stand up from my seat. The bell above the door rings out as I exit the bakery. The smell of cupcakes and tarte tatin leaves me, but Marinette's scent still lingers. It follows me home, to my bedroom. I replace the bandage over my broken nose. The pain I felt when my nose was broken was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Everything hurts. Breathing hurts, eating hurts. Seeing her today hurt, her ignoring me in class hurt, her rejecting me in the bakery hurt the most. My mind is stuck on her, her blue eyes, her adorable little freckles, her sweet smile. Fuck, the mere image of her face in my mind hurts. I've never wished more that I could be at a photoshoot right now. At least then my mind would be occupied by something other than this girl who drives me completely insane. I collapsed onto my bed and let out a loud, violent, scream into my pillow.

"Okay, time to talk about this." I hear Plagg's voice on the pillow next to mine.

I lift my face up from the pillow to see Plagg sitting next to me, a smelly piece of camembert cheese in his arms.

"I'm fine." I grumble.

"No, you aren't." Plagg tells me, downing the cheese in one bite. "We need to talk about what happened today, or you'll explode. I'm sure that Tikki is having the same talk with Marinette."

Her name makes my heart skip a beat. I feel an intense longing for her, wishing that she was lying in this bed with me. I wish that Marinette was with me. I push my face back into the pillow, wondering if I could suffocate myself. I let out another long groan. Am I just not good enough for her? Was she hoping that Chat Noir was somebody completely different? Did she just not want me? Why didn't anybody want me? I let another loud wail escape from my mouth.

"Kid, talk." Plagg demands. "Use words."

"Why am I not good enough?" I whisper, tears threatening to fall down my face.

"Hey, hey." Plagg pats my arm lightly. "Trust me, you're good enough for her. I don't think that is the problem here."

"What do you mean?" I ask, I can hear my own voice cracking.

"You love Ladybug." Plagg tells me, I nod. "She knows that you love Ladybug."

"Your point?" I can hardly breathe but I don't have the strength to lift my head from this pillow.

"You don't love Marinette," He tells me. "You only love Ladybug."

"Bullshit. I love my Lady no matter who she is." I tell him.

His eyes widen, he's surprised. Did he seriously think that I only loved one side of Ladybug? Did Marinette think that I only loved one side her as well? Did she believe that I had fallen in love with a girl in a red suit, and not for the girl who sat behind me in class? I loved her. I loved everything about that girl. I loved how warmhearted and understanding she was. I loved how creative and ambitious she was. I loved how she would make it her mission to make sure that everyone was happy. She never worried about herself. Sure she had faults, but I did as well.

"How can I prove it?" I ask Plagg. "How can I prove to Marinette that I love everything about her?"

"That's up to you." Plagg replies.

How can I prove it to her? Should I try to talk to her again? I could go to her balcony as Chat Noir. But she probably doesn't want me bothering her anymore tonight. I'll give her space, I'll let her cool off. Tomorrow I'll prove it to her. I'll prove to the most incredible girl in Paris just how wonderful she is to me.

My heart still aches in my chest, but it continues beating.

* * *

 **I was thinking about writing a sort of companion story to my last story, The Ladybug Effect, but it would just be about past incarnations of Ladybug and Chat Noir and wouldn't include Mari and Adrien. I think it would be fun to write something like that and to explore different time periods.**

 **Also, I hate this laptop so much, it was my sister's before she got a new one. Worst part about being the fourth kid, every single thing you own is a hand me down. My iPhone was my oldest sister's back when it was new three years ago, then it went to me when she got a new phone. I know, I shouldn't complain, there are a lot of people who can't afford iPhones. And don't even get me started on clothing, I don't have my own wardrobe. I just take whatever my sisters don't want anymore. I mean, I don't mind the clothing. It's just that my sisters are so different, Mel pretty much lives in dresses, Ali's wardrobe is basically all flannel shirts and band tee shirts, and Valeria is obsessed with vintage clothing. Honestly, my brother doesn't realize how lucky he is to be the only boy.**

 **Sorry for the rant.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	9. Say You'll Stay

Say You'll Stay

 **This was supposed to be up yesterday, but I had to pack for a trip. I'm going to California for the week, so there will be no updates until late next week. Also, I'm sorry in advanced for what is about to happen. I don't own this show**.

* * *

-Marinette-

When I open my eyes everything around me is blurry. All I see is a messy white blob clouding my vision, the world around me seems distorted and strange. I can hear a rhythmic beating coming from an unidentified source, and the smell of soap and disinfectant fills my nostrils. I was lying on the cold tile floor, though it didn't feel hard or uncomfortable, it felt like nothing. My head throbbed with pain, as though someone were sticking needles into my skull. I could feel a dull ache in my chest, one that I was certain would never leave me as long as I lived. I blinked a few times, and the world became clear. I was in a bright white room, with bare white walls and a few fluorescent lights above my head. There was sunlight streaming in through a small window, however it did not do much to make the room cheerful. Although a hospital is a place of healing, I feel as though I am in a prison cell. A place where I am trapped, interned, I can not stay in one place and yet I have nowhere to go. I force myself to sit, despite every muscle in my body begging me to stop. I slowly massage my temples, trying to calm the now intense pain coursing through my skull. I ran my finger through my hair, the remnants of hairspray made my dark locks feel stiff and a bit greasy. I looked down at my attire, only to see that the beautiful dress I had worked so hard to make had been stripped from my body in favour of a light grey hospital gown. The nurses must have changed me. It made me sad to think that they probably threw out my party dress, as it had been coated in blood. I force myself to my feet, the annoying beeping noise does nothing to sooth the feeling of rusty knives cutting into my skull. For the love of all things good please shut it off. Where was that beeping even coming from?

I looked to my left to see a heart monitor, beeping in sync with the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. The lines spike up and down with every beat, letting me know that I was alive. I followed the various wires to a bed. The bed didn't look too comfortable, but the girl lying beneath the covers doesn't care. Afterall, she is in a coma. Her dark hair is disheveled and messy, her makeup has been wiped away, and the pink dress she wore was replaced by a hospital gown. She had a breathing mask over her mouth and an IV stuck in her arm. I reached out to touch her face, fingers brushing against her cheek. Her flesh felt warm as I traced the familiar outline of her cheek, a large cut ran from the corner of her lip to the middle of her cheek. All of the colour had been drained from her face, she looked dead without her lively smile. Looking at her was strange, like seeing your reflection in a mirror, only it doesn't feel like you.

I feel an overwhelming wave of fear and sorrow flow through my chest as tears begin to pool in my eyes. Who knew that seeing yourself lying comatose in a hospital bed could be so emotional? I shouldn't be here. I should be at a wedding, I should be sipping champagne and dancing in a custom made dress, I shouldn't be clinging to life in a hospital. And then there were my parents, my mother gone in the blink of an eye, and my poor dad. I had to pull through for my father, because if I didn't, he would be heading back to the bakery all alone. I wasn't going to let that happen. He didn't deserve that. I sat on the side of the hospital bed, watching my chest rise and fall. It was the only movement coming from the body, the rest was agonizingly still. My face looks pale, my rosy cheeks are dull and my lips are no longer bright pink. The only recognizable part of my face is the line of freckles across my nose. I let out a heavy sigh, I already looked gone.

"You better pull through'" I tell her- me. "For Papa."

I hear the door open and shut as two nurses enter the room. A man, the same one that had been with the doctor, and a young woman who looked like a trainee. The nurse checks the bag on my IV before writing something down on the clipboard.

"Her heart rate is steady, which is good." He states without looking up from the clipboard. "Hopefully soon she'll be able to breathe on her own again."

The young woman nods, but I don't think that she's listening. Instead she studies my face, watches as I sleep peacefully, unable to wake up. Suddenly a beep on the man's pager snaps the two back to attention. The nurse looks down at the pager before turning away from the trainee.

"I'll be back in five," He tells the girl. He slips the pager into his pocket and tucks his clipboard under his arm. "Make sure she doesn't move."

Hilarious. You try being trapped inside an eternal nightmare in which there is no escape from. I can't wake up, I can't open my eyes, I can't even breathe on my own.

"So young," The woman whispers, as though she knows that I can hear her. "It's a shame that you have to be here, especially on a beautiful day."

Is it a beautiful day? It was raining early this morning, right before mama, papa, and I left for the wedding. That is hardly what I call a beautiful day. However, maybe rain is beautiful to some, and sunshine ugly to another. Perhaps when you're alive, every day on Earth is beautiful, but we do not appreciate it.

"Don't go gentle into that good night," She continues. I recognize the line from one of the poems we had read in English class, one about fighting and death. How we all inevitably lose our own fights. "When I was your age, all I wanted to do was die."

Did she really just say that? Was she really talking to a comatose patient? Do all nurses do this? Does she know that I can hear her? I see her ever so slightly lift up her sleeve and look at her wrist. I wasn't sure what I had expected to see on her wrist, but what I had confused me. On the young woman's wrist was a single word, a tattoo.

Breathe. The word was breathe. Written with black ink that looked like poetry on her skin.

"It's a reminder," She tells me. "When life gets hard, take a deep breath and remember that everything will get better."

Breathe. Take a deep breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Everything is going to be okay in the end. Papa will wake up, I will wake up, and we'll go back to the bakery together. We'll be sad for a long time, but then we will remember to breathe, and everything will be better. Everything is going to be alright. I close my eyes and breathe, but the air feels forced in my lungs, like it doesn't want to be there. Mama is gone. Mama will never brush my hair, or kiss my head, give me advice, or tell me she loves me. Every memory I have of her seems to flood my mind all at once. Family vacations, opening presents on Christmas morning, birthdays, every laugh and every smile. The image of her lying lifeless in the hospital overwhelms me. My cheeks feel wet all of a sudden, and all thoughts of breathing are lost. The machine begins to beep faster as my breath becomes short. The young woman stops speaking and rushes to my side.

"It's alright," She whispers. "If you want to keep fighting, keep breathing, then that is your choice. The world is a wonderful place and you have yet to experience it. However, I understand if you decide not to. I know that I wouldn't want to go on if I lost both of my parents, so whatever choice you make, It's understandable."

Both?

* * *

-Adrien-

The room was silent for a very long time. I stared at the television, even though it had been turned off a while ago, a black screen was all that stared back at me. My feet anxiously tap on the white tile floor, there's no real rhythm and it sounds more like stomping than clapping. I look over at Nino, who has his feet up on the wooden coffee table in front of us. The table is littered with magazines, most of which are outdated. I recognize my face on one of them, this photo was from a few months ago, just before I broke my nose. Just before I found out that Marinette was Ladybug. How much did I want to travel back to that moment, walk up to that perfect model boy, and slap him in the face. How much do I wish that I could tell him everything that I know now? I was stupid and selfish, I said things that I regret. I hurt her, even though I never meant to. I should be the one in the hospital, not her. God, I wish that I had said everything differently. But it was too late now, there were things that I couldn't take back.

I feel Nino nudge me lightly.

"I'm going to find Alya," He whispers, pushing himself up from the uncomfortable plastic chair. He stretches his arms and legs for a second before turning to me. "You coming?"

I nod and force myself to stand up, my legs are numb from sitting down for the last few hours, and there's a small pain in my lower back. We leave the waiting room in silence and stand in the equally as quiet hallway. The hallways are bare mostly, but the wall near the elevators is decorated with photography, mostly pictures of sunny days, something to make one smile when they're sad. It's a nice gesture, but it doesn't sooth the sting of how depressing hospitals are. Alya is standing by the elevators when we find her, she's on her phone, pacing back and forth in the mostly empty hallway. I couldn't hear what she was saying and I didn't know who she was talking to. Her face was completely monotone, yet her eyes were still puffy and red from crying. The tear tracks under her eyes were smeared with black mascara, she had also tied her hair back into a ponytail. We don't interrupt her conversation as she whispers into her phone. When she's done, she hangs up the phone and stares at us, her eyes are dry for the first time today.

"That was Mylene," She explains, slipping her phone into her back pocket. "She and Ivan are on their way, I think Juleka and Rose are with them."

I can see the tears that are beginning to reform in her eyes, she quickly squeezes her eyes shut, trying to force the tears away. I can tell that she's tired of crying, that she wants to be positive for Mari, but it's hard. It's hard to stay positive and strong for someone when they are in pain. When you love someone it's only natural that you want to protect them from any harm, and when you can't protect that person it feels like you've failed them somehow. Even if it wasn't your fault. You want the best for them, you want them to succeed. You never want something so unbelievably horrible to happen to them, you never want them to feel broken. But there are things in this world that we have no control over, and when those things break someone you love they break you too.

Alya quickly wipes the tears from her eyes, another black blob of eyeliner coming off on her fingers. I look over at Nino, he looks down and bites his lip, as though he too is trying to keep from breaking. I feel the same overwhelming wave of emotion that they do, and as much as I try to hold it back, a stray tear betrays me. It escapes my eye and falls down my cheek, I take a breath. Nino pulls the two of us into a group hug, squeezing us tightly. Group hugs feel empty without Marinette. I can feel Alya shaking and I can hear her sporadic breathing as she tries to calm herself.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, her voice choked. She's hyperventilating now, and she's shaking like she's been left out in a snowstorm. "I just keep thinking about the worst possible scenario, and I want to stay positive, but I'm terrified."  
"We all are." Nino tells her, slowly rubbing her back.

We're all terrified. It's easy to say that everything will be okay, even if we know that it might not be. Everything needs to be okay. We need Marinette back more than anything, I need her back. She is the only person who knows the real me. The only one that I can be myself around. I don't act like Chat Noir when I'm not with her, because she brings out the good side of me.

"I've been texting her," Alya says, breaking our embrace. "Every hour I send her something, even if it's just to tell her that I love her and want her to get better."

She smiles sadly, looking down at her shoe.

"It's silly, I know." She whispers, taking her phone out of her pocket.

She flips through a the photos on her camera, a warm smile forming on her lips.

"This one is from when we went to the beach." She explains, showing me a picture of her and Marinette together.

They're wearing matching bathing suits in the picture, bright red with white polka dots on them. They are standing on a white sand beach with the ocean in the background, the sun shines above their heads. The two girls are smiling like they haven't got a care in the world.

"It was taken last summer," She continued. "I wanted to go water skiing, and Mari was protesting the entire time. I managed to get her on the boat to watch me and-"  
She cut herself off there and started giggling at the memory.

"It's kind of embarrassing." Alya laughed.

"No, continue." Nino sounded intrigued.

It was good to see Alya smiling, she hasn't smiled all day. It was nice to hear her laughing too, and remembering something good. It's hard to remember the good, especially at a time like this.

"So we went out on this boat," Alya went on, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "And my first attempt I fall flat on my face, but my second attempt I manage to get up and I'm having fun, everything is great-"  
"And then?" Nino inquires.

"And then my top flies off." She laughs, her face turning red. "I have no idea how that even happened, I was wearing a life jacket."

We're all laughing, and it feels good. This is what Mari would want, for us to laugh together like we always do. To be optimistic and happy. Laughing feels so much better than crying. I know that the laughter won't last, that soon we might be crying again. But right now we're happy, even when we're so sad.

"Marinette was laughing so hard that I was afraid that she'd have a seizure," She recalled, her smile was bittersweet. "She gave me her coverup to wear, it was kind of small for me, but it was nice of her."

Alya takes another deep breath. Her smile is bleak and there is no joy on her face. Seeing Alya this depressed is absolutely heartbreaking.

"She's a good person," She continues, her voice is soft when she speaks. "Just her smile can make you feel better on the worst day of your life, you know?"

Yeah, I do know. I know the power of that smile. The smile that always made me feel like I was at home. The smile that lit up the darkness, that made me feel safe and loved. The smile that was my favourite. The smile that wasn't there to comfort me on the worst day of my life. What do you do when the thing that brought you comfort and security is no longer there? What do you do when normal is over? Alya's phone starts ringing again, and she steps away to answer it. Nino turns to me.

"It feels good to see her smile," He sighs. "I wonder if Marinette is out of surgery yet."

"Everything will be fine." I say almost automatically, Nino's words barely registering.

Nino opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the sound of Alya gasping. I turn just in time to see her hanging up the phone, a look of panic crossing her face. She takes the two of us by the arm and rushes us back to the waiting room. The sight is absolutely heartbreaking. Instead of silence we are greeted with the sounds of mourning. I see Marinette's grandparents crying, along with her aunt. Mrs. Cesaire is standing in the middle of the room, an apologetic look on her face. They don't even have to say it. We already know what's happened.

"Unfortunately," Mrs. Cesaire tells us, her voice cracking slightly. She takes a deep breath. "We've lost Mr. Dupain-Cheng."

* * *

 **Once again, I am sorry. I did not want to kill off both of Mari's parents, but if I want to stay true to the book that this was based off of I had too. I can't imagine what it would be like for Marinette, to suddenly have no family.** **I have three sisters and a brother and yeah we are not the nicest to each other sometimes but if I ever lost any of them I don't know what I would do.**

 **I hope you enjoyed!**


	10. Say You Love Me

Say You Love Me

 **I'm back from my vacation! Enjoy chapter 10! I don't own Miraculous Ladybug.**

* * *

-Marinette-

My portfolio has been sent to London. Which means that I have nothing to do tonight but lie in my bed and think about Adrien, my Chat Noir. At least when I had things to distract myself with I wouldn't be thinking about him. But now all of that is over. At least until I get another letter from Central Saint Martins, telling me whether or not they want me to travel to London with a full portfolio. Then I'll have a clusterfuck of new projects to work on. I sit on my bed, my phone in my lap. I texted Alya hours ago, hoping that my best friend would help me get all of my problems off my mind. She hasn't texted me back. I sink into my comforter, my sheets are warm and fresh out of the dryer, they smell like lavender. The scent is comforting, I'll have to remember what detergent Mama uses so that I can buy it when I move to London. I say that like I've already been accepted. That's when my phone beeps, letting me know that my battery is slowly depleting. Where did I put my changer? I climb down from my bed, searching inside of my desk drawers for the cord. I find it in the drawer underneath the one where I keep my sewing supplies, it's tangled in about five other cords, great. As I start to untangle the large knot created by the wires, my eyes travel along my walls, which are covered in photos of Adrien. He left me alone at school again today, and he didn't come to the bakery this afternoon. Now the only Adrien that I have are the pictures of him hanging on my bedroom wall. Why am I torturing myself like this? I can't keep sitting around and waiting for a boy who will never care about me in the same way that I care about him. I've been waiting nearly four years for him to do as little as look my way, I'm not waiting another four years for him to realize I'm the one. So I take one photo down from my wall, and then another, and another. And then my collage is gone, my pink walls are bare. I stare down at his face in my hands, the face of Adrien Agreste, the true identity of Chat Noir. I shut my eyes tightly and force myself to tear the photos in half, tossing the ripped up pieces into the trash.

"Marinette?" Tikki's high pitched voice calls.

"Yeah?" I reply, the red kwami floats in front of my face.

"Want to talk about what you just did?" She asks, taking a seat on my desk.

"What about it?" I ask, she gives me a look. "I'm going to be an adult soon. I think it's time that I grew up, moved away from ridiculous teenage obsessions."

Tikki continues to give me a look of disbelief as I change my desktop background from a photo collage of Adrien to a photograph of me and Alya. I can feel Tikki's black eyes glaring at me as I do so. When I finally look down at her she doesn't look sad or angry, just disappointed.

"What?" I question. She's been telling me to either talk to Adrien or move on for four years. But now that I know, now that I'm trying to move on, she suddenly doesn't want me to? "If I go to England there's a chance that I'll never see him again, I'm sparing both of us the heartache."

"Is that what you want?" Tikki sounds genuinely concerned, she always does. I've never seen her frown this much before. "Do you really want to be done with him Marinette? He's Chat Noir. He has had a crush on you for four years. And you won't even let him talk."

I'd be lying if I said that Tikki's words didn't sting. But the thought of Adrien loving someone who was a perfect lie hurt even more. I was going to have to say goodbye to him eventually, and the sooner I did it the less pain that I would feel. I would forget about Adrien and Chat Noir, I'll forget about his stupid beautiful smile, and his cheerful laughter. I'll forgot about how good it felt to kiss him. How good his lips tasted. How wanted I felt in his arms. No. No, Marinette. Moving on.

"He doesn't love Marinette," I remind myself, the sting of my own words stabs me right in the chest. "He loves Ladybug."

"You won't even let him talk." Tikki retorts, floating up closer to my face.

She had a point. This was a boy that I had grown with, one that had grown on me. He was the only person besides Tikki who I could talk to about my double life. He was the only person who understood how hard it was juggling school work and fighting the forces of evil. Why hadn't I just let him talk to me? Why was I so overwhelmed by emotions whenever I saw his face? I put up walls around my heart to avoid the pain of what might happen if he got too close. But now those walls had been destroyed, they were nothing but rubble now.

"I know that you don't really want to forget him," Tikki told me. "I know that you're hurt. And who could blame you? You didn't even think that you knew this boy in real life, finding out that he's your classmate was a shock to you."

She's right. I cover my face with my hands and shut my eyes tightly. Why does she always have to be right? I don't want to say goodbye to him. I care about him too much. He has always been so protective and loving towards me, and I've done nothing to show him that I care in return. Maybe I should go back to his room, have a real conversation with him, work something out.

"Talk to him Marinette." Tikki pats my head comfortingly, giving me a supportive smile.

I stand up from my desk chair and graze my fingertips over my earrings.

"Tikki-" I'm about to transform, when a tapping on my window stops me.

Tap tap. There it is again. My gaze travels towards the glass, where a shadowy figure looms like a ghost in the night. His bright green eyes are the first things that I notice. They glow in the dark, haunting me with their unmistakable beauty. The second thing I notice are his lips. They aren't quite curled into a smile, he has a hopeful, pleading look on his face. His smile only forms when I open the window. A cold rush of midnight air envelopes my entire body, sending a shiver down my spine. He's standing in front of me now, clad in that black leather catsuit, looking at me with a hopeful smile on his face.

"Hey." He greets me.

I open my mouth, and suddenly have no clue what I'm supposed to say to him. Do I apologize? Do I stay quiet and let him talk? How am I supposed to have this conversation?

"Hi." Is all I manage to get out.

There's another long silence between us. My hands swing awkwardly at my sides, but they want to hug him, to apologize. I look down at my feet, I'm scared of what might happen if I look at him for too long. I might never speak if I keep looking into his eyes. And right now, I need to apologize.

"You didn't do anything wrong, just so you know." I tell him, my gaze still unable to meet his. "I don't want you to blame yourself for my inability to… I just…"

I'm tongue tied again, my breath hitches, I'm choking on the growing lump in my throat. I can't speak anymore, I don't have a voice. I dare to look up at Adrien, who has this look of concern on his face. In a flash of black light he detransforms, and he really is Adrien. Leather bodysuit turns into a tee shirt and jeans, mask disappears and there is nothing but him. I feel myself beginning to sweat, my vision becomes hazy, and I suddenly feel so dizzy. I take a seat on my chaise, forcing myself to breathe. I feel Adrien's hand on my back, moving in slow circles on my spine. His touch is electrifying, and I need more. Stupid teenage hormones.

"You didn't do anything wrong." I repeat, I'm barely able to get the words out. "It's all me, I'm the one who isn't good enough."

I'm breathing heavily again, tears prick in my eyes and I do everything in my power to fight them back. I don't want him to see me crying, I don't want him to think that he's done something wrong. He's done nothing wrong. He could never do anything wrong. I want him to know that everything was me, my insecurities. I'm going to fuck everything up because of my own damn insecurities. We've gone silent again. The only things that I hear are my heavy breathing the the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. I feel Adrien's hand on my shoulder, it's a comforting gesture, one that he uses often, and in that moment it means so much.

"All those things she is," Adrien breaks the silence between us. "Brave, strong, confident. That is you. It's always been you."

He's sitting next to me on the chaise now. He isn't touching me, but his body is dangerously close to mine. I can hear him breathing, in through his gauze-covered nose and out through his perfect mouth, he's trying to stay calm too. I don't have the courage to look him in the eyes just yet, he's twiddling his thumbs in his lap and his eyes are fixed on his shoes. I take in his words. I'm brave, confident, strong, but not in the way he wants me to be.

"You love Ladybug." I manage to whisper, I wonder if he even heard me. "You don't love the real me."

"That's not true," He tells me. I search for doubt in his voice, some kind of indication that he's lying. I don't find it. "I've always thought that you were adorable, and you're so kind to everybody. You touch everyone you meet, you make other people happy in a way no one else can. You make me happy."

I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. I hide my face in my hands, mostly to hide the blush growing on my face. How many times had I longed to hear those words? I've spent nights dreaming about Adrien telling me what I meant to him. And now that it's happening I have to force myself to keep my head down, because I know that the second I do I might start to cry. And I don't want to cry in front of him. Through the slits of my fingers I see him stuff his hand into his jacket pocket, rifling around for something. I don't look to see what he takes out. Intrigued, I remove my hands from my face, but I still can't force myself to look up. I try my hardest to breathe again, but it proves to be difficult when Adrien slowly moves closer to me. His hand is curled into a fist now, he's holding something out for me to see.

"I just realized that I never gave this back to you." He tells me, I can practically hear the hope in his words.

He uncurls his fingers to show me what is lying in his palm. My eyes widen in surprise. A bracelet, made out of beads, attached to a flimsy pink string. It's my bracelet. I made this when I was a kid out of beads and string. I gave it to him so that he could have some extra luck during the video game tournament back when we were fifteen. And he kept it.

"Did you keep this in your pocket?" I can't help but smirk as I take the bracelet from him.

"Every day." He admits.

I finally work up the courage to steal a glance at him again. He's looking down at the floor again, his leg is shaking slightly, he has a bashful smile spread across his face. Everything from his cheeks to the back of his ears are burning red. He looks at me, still smirking like Chat Noir always does, and my heart rate immediately doubles. Now it's my turn to blush.

"It's given me great luck," He tells me. There's something about the way he speaks, something so passionate and captivating. "I found out that the two girls that I care about the most are the same person."

I can no longer fight the stupid smile that spreads across my face. He kept my bracelet. Adrien Agreste kept a stupid first grade art project in his pocket for years. And now he claims that it brought him real luck, it brought him me. My cheeks suddenly hurt from the wide grin growing on my face, I can barely bring myself to breathe. How do you speak again? I've forgotten.

"You're my lucky charm," He continues, his hand twitches nervously, as if he's unsure whether or not he should touch me. "You've always put others before yourself, and I really admire that. You're purrfect."

I roll my eyes playfully at his dumb pun, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. My fingers tap nervously on my knee, and I'm suddenly aware of how empty my hands are, but I'm too scared to reach out. I squeeze the lucky bracelet for support as I reach out to take his hand. His skin is warm and soft on mine, I feel a tingling sensation float up from the tips of my fingers and shoot up my arm, making my heart pound in my chest. I place the bracelet in his palm and close his fingers around the silly little lucky charm.

"I want you to keep it." I finally manage to find my voice, and it takes everything in me not to stammer.

"It's kind of small for my wrist." He jokes, letting out a small chuckle. God, he sounds so cute.

Everything is silent between us for another moment. And I know that this is the make or break moment of the night. He's looking at me with that stupid grin on his face, his green eyes filled with intense longing. I know that look, he's given me that look countless times as Chat Noir. Those eyes, that smirk, letting me know how much I'm wanted, how much I'm loved. We're so close, my eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips for a moment. The memory of kissing him as Chat Noir replays in my mind. His scent drawing me in, his soft lips, how incredibly addictive his taste was. I can feel his breath on my face, my heart does a flip in my chest as we lean in closer to one another, our faces a mere inch apart.

"Marinette?" The voice causes the both of us to jump up from the chaise.

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized that I was holding. I look at Adrien, his entire face is deep scarlet and his eyes are wide with surprise. I force myself to relax, it was just my mother.

"Wait here." I whisper to Adrien as I open the hatch that leads downstairs.

I slowly descend the steps, my slippers don't make a lot of noise on the floor, but the wood still creaks beneath my feet. My mother is standing at the bottom of the staircase, clad in her nightgown, her reading glasses sit on top of her head. She's smiling, she always smiles, she's got a beautiful smile. Papa always tells me that she gave me that smile. She wraps me in a hug, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"I expect you to actually get some rest tonight." She tells me semi-sternly, but her smile never leaves her face. "You submitted your portfolio, you have no excuses."

Oh Mama, you have no idea.

"You've got such dark circles under your eyes," She continues, gently placing her thumb just underneath my left eye. "You aren't sneaking off to a heavy metal concert, are you?"

We both snicker.

"No, Mama." I tell her with a smile.

She presses one last kiss to my forehead.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." She whispers.

"Goodnight." I reply with a smile.

I try not to look too eager as I retreat back up the steps to my room. The hatch creaks loudly as I push it up to enter my bedroom. I see Adrien standing at my desk, looking at what I've left out on the table. I creep up behind him, only to see that he's observing my designs. A small smile crosses my face.

"Like them?" I ask nervously.

He picks up one of the designs, a rough sketch of an extravagant outfit, one that I purposely made more outlandish than the other designs that I had drawn. I sent a copy of this one to London with the rest of my portfolio.

"This one's my favourite." He decides. "The shape and colour are unique, but they compliment each other really well, this is very avantgarde."

I stifle a small laugh, he's cute when he talks about fashion. I'm flattered honestly, the son of one of Paris's top fashion designers likes something that I designed. That means something, right? If an Agreste likes what I design then the admissions panel at Central Saint Martins will like them too.

"That's one of the designs I used for my portfolio." I tell him.

He looks at me, a proud smile spread across his face.

"Any school would be an idiot not to accept you." He tells me, placing the design back on my desk. "Where did you apply?"

"Everywhere," I tell him. "But I really want to get into Central Saint Martins."

He noticeably stiffens at my response, yet he manages to keep his smile up. I eye him curiously, wondering why he reacted the way he did at hearing the school I wanted. His smile is a facade, I can tell.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

Adrien continues to smile.

"Wonderful." He's lying. I know that he is. "You know, my father couldn't even get in there."

I know him better than he thinks I do. Something is wrong, something that he isn't telling me.

"I should go," He takes my hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of my hand. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

I want to ask him. I want to know what's wrong, what's bothering him. I go over the conversation in my mind, but I don't see what I could have said to get this reaction from him. Although I'm worried, I return his smile. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a tight hug. It feels good, but it doesn't feel the way it should feel.

"Alright," I tell him, trying to keep up my own smile. "See you at school."

* * *

-Adrien-

I should be happy right now. Marinette is Ladybug and she has feelings for me as Adrien and as Chat Noir. We love both sides of each other. I should be awake late at night thinking about all of the things we'll do together. I should be rehearsing how I will ask her out, so that I won't be nervous when I do it in real life. I should be imagining all of the dates that I'll take her on, where we'll go, what we'll do. I should be giddy with the anticipation of seeing her at school tomorrow. Counting down the minutes until I can see her smile again. I shouldn't be awake, pacing anxiously around my bedroom, because I'm terrified.

"Central Saint Martins?" I whisper to myself as I walk in an endless circle, going absolutely nowhere. "She wants to go to some snobbish fashion school in England?"

Plagg is sitting on my couch buried in a mountain of half-empty containers of stinky camembert cheese. Every once in awhile he looks up from his meal and watches me restlessly pacing around the room. He glares at me, I can't tell if he's annoyed or concerned at this point. I continue to pace until my feet hurt, until I can't take it anymore. Eventually, I collapse on my bed. My heart hurts again, I'm getting really tired of this. The aching is definitely more intense now than it has ever been before. I don't think I've felt loneliness on this level since my mom left. It's like someone has ripped into my chest and torn out my heart. I feel hopeless, like nothing will ever be alright ever again. I won't blame Marinette, she should dream big, she should apply to any school she wants. But why does it have to be so far away? This is just my stupid luck, isn't it? I finally get the girl of my dreams and she's going to leave me.

"Why me?" I whisper to myself. "Why does everyone I love always leave?"

I can practically hear Plagg rolling his eyes. The kwami floats over to my bed, hovering directly in front of my face.

"Adrien," He starts. "Think about this logically."

I sit up in the bed and eye him curiously. Logically? I thought that I was thinking about this logically. Marinette goes off to the school of her dreams, and whatever happens to me happens. I've always just let things happen.

"She's applied to this school," Plagg continues. "How good is the fashion program?"

"Excellent," I reply. "They only accept three international students every year."

"There you go," Plagg says, raising his tiny arms in the air. "You said that not even your father got into this school. What are the chances Marinette will get in?"

With her abilities, pretty freaking high. Marinette is the most talented person that I know. She can create things so incredibly unique and original that her designs should be displayed in museums alongside Van Gogh and Picasso. Everything that she created was special, a true work of art. But then again, it might not even matter how talented she is. Some rich snob might buy their way into her place. Someone with more connections could snatch up her place before she even gets a chance. As heartbreaking as the thought of her not going to her dream school was, there were still so many prestigious schools in Paris that she can go to. If I show my father her designs, then maybe he could pull some strings at his old university.

I can barely bring myself to nod my head as I lie back down on my bed, sinking into the comforter and pillows. I roll over onto my side and shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to fall asleep.

Sleep doesn't come. And I can do nothing to stop the waves of guilt, sadness, and loneliness that wash over my body.

* * *

 **I keep making Adrien's part so short, wth? I'll try harder, I promise.**

 **So I just finished Harry Potter and The Cursed Child and I am disappointed. I am very, extremely disappointed. I don't know, if you've read it what do you think? Honestly, n** **ot the best book of the summer in my opinion. Personally, I think that Paper Princess by Erin Watt is the best summer read right now...**

 **Well, I hope that you enjoyed chapter ten.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	11. Say You'll Go

Say You'll Go

 **Sorry about the wait, my sister was moving into her dorm this weekend and I was helping her with the move. Here's chapter 11. I don't own this show. I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

"Both?" I practically yell at the young trainee, even if she can't hear me.

No, no, no. There's a mistake. I only lost one person today. I can't- I didn't lose two.

"What do you mean both?" Of course I was screaming, I was angry dammit.

But the trainee simply sighed as she looked down at my unconscious body. She doesn't say another word, I see her quickly wipe a tear from her eye. I don't want pity, but I know that's exactly what I'm going to get. It's hard to see someone so young in a hospital bed, and it's equally as hard to be a young person in a hospital bed. The male nurse returns a minute later, his clipboard tucked underneath his arm, a grave look on his face. He looks at me, then at the trainee nurse, he shook his head slightly.

"Time to deliver the news." His voice is somber as he turns and exits the room. I can hear him mumbling something under his breath, I almost don't catch the words. "I hate this part of the job."

The trainee nods sadly and follows him out of the room. I walk close behind them, through the nearly empty hallway. The white walls are bleak and the pictures hung in wooden frames do little to brighten up the depressing atmosphere. Hospitals are depressing. We pass an older man using a walker, moving slowly down the hallway, he smiles politely at the nurses as we pass. I see a girl in a wheelchair, probably no older than nine or ten, her head void of any hair. She too smiles as we pass. These were people, sick people, people who didn't know how many days they had left, and yet they smiled. They weren't angry or sad, they simply accepted that they didn't have a lot of time. Maybe I should accept the possibility. The possibility that I might not survive. But I can't. Mama would want me to continue, to live, to be there for Papa. When we enter the waiting room I immediately freeze. There are my grandparents, sitting with my Aunt Julia, permanent frowns plastered on their faces. They aren't talking, the room is completely silent, it's almost eery. Mrs. Cesaire is there too, which means that Alya is here somewhere. Of course Alya would come to the hospital, she wouldn't leave me alone, not a time like this. I would do the same for her. So where was she? I'll worry about her later. I take a seat beside my aunt and wait as the nurse mentally prepares himself for what he is about to tell them. I can hear my aunt breathing heavily, like she's trying to stay calm. I want to help her, give her some kind of reassurance, but I can't. I can't do anything. So I force myself to focus on the nurse and my grandparents. I assumed he would tell them about my mom, so hearing what came next was certainly a shock.

"I'm sorry," He starts, his voice was serious yet depressive. "We couldn't save your son."

If I hadn't been sitting down I think that I would have fainted. Papa. My papa really is dead? I should have known, but I didn't want to be true. I've lost both of them. There will be no one to bake bread in the mornings, or kiss my head before I go to school. There won't be anyone to celebrate with me on my last day of Lychee, or on my first day of university. If I do get accepted to Central Saint Martins, who will tell me that they're proud of all that I've accomplished? If Papa is gone, who will walk me down the aisle at my wedding? Who will give me away? Does this mean I'll lose the bakery? And my home? Should I even go back home? The thought is terrifying, but it's still a possibility. Should I even bother staying? Both of my parents are gone, I don't have anyone to support me. I don't have anyone to comfort me or give me encouragement. I don't have anyone to give me advice or tell me that everything is going to be okay. I could leave. I don't have to stay here. I could moved on. I could be with them.

I look over at my aunt, who is shaking and trembling with sobs. Her breathing is shallow and she doesn't even bother to wipe the tears that stain her cheeks. My grandmother sits in wide eyed shock, staring at absolutely nothing. Her hands were covering her mouth, a loose tear escaped her eye and fell down her face. And then there's my grandfather, who sort of just sits there in disbelief, his head in his hands. What good would staying be if I'm just going to feel more pain. My heart aches and twists painfully in my chest, so I look away. Mrs. Cesaire is on her feet now, cell phone in hand, I hear her yell Alya's name into the reciever, her voice filled with urgency. When she hangs up the phone I watch her pace around the room, arms crossed at her chest, head hung sadly. Now they're just waiting for me.

"Don't worry," I tell them. "I'll be with them, I'll be okay."  
I stand up to take my leave, looking back at them only makes me feel worse.

"I love you." I whisper.

I'm about to turn my back on them when I hear three sets of footsteps enter the room. I spin around almost too quickly, and there they are. Standing in a row, like children in the schoolyard. I almost cry when I see them. Alya, her hair in a messy ponytail, makeup smudged and eyes bloodshot. Nino, his headphones around his neck, he's taken his hat off out of respect. And Adrien? I blink a few times to make sure that he's actually there. He is. It's Adrien. What is he doing here? He doesn't need to be here. We had a fight. We broke up. We are not dating anymore. Yet here he is. He's standing right in front of me. I find myself moving closer, I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne, a scent that had always made me want to hold him close. He's here. That has to mean something, right? Unless Alya went to his house and dragged his butt here, that's something that she'd do.

Mrs. Cesaire gives them the bad news. It stings, hearing the words over and over again. Sabine Dupain-Cheng is dead. Tom Dupain-Cheng is dead. My parents are dead. I can hardly breathe, I feel nauseous, like I'm about to puke. I look up at my friends again. Alya has tears in her eyes, which sends another jolt of pain through my chest. I can't bare seeing her like this, so sad and broken. I've only ever seen Alya cry a handful of times, crying just isn't her. Am I really going to make her go through the pain of losing her best friend? How can I die and leave her? But how can I live without my parents? They support me, they raised me. I can't live without them. And I don't have to. I don't have to go back, I can move on, I can be with my family. If I do decide to go, I hope that Alya will understand.

"What about Marinette?" Alya asks, her voice choked.

The nurse looks over at Alya and smiles sadly.

"You'll be happy to hear that she's out of surgery," The nurse replies. Everyone in the room is visibly relieved. "But she's on life support."  
"She'll be okay though." It's Adrien who pipes up this time. I'm surprised by the tone of his voice, just how demanding he sounds. As though if he says the words enough times, they'll be true.

The nurse nods, even though he knows that there is no guarantee. Oh Adrien, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. He deserves a beautiful life, and it makes me sad that I may not be a part of it.

"Would you like to see her?" The nurse inquires.

My aunt and grandparents immediately shoot up from their seats, the nurse nods and beckons them to follow him. I should go too. Let them say what they have to say before I make my decision. I'm about to follow them back to my room when something pulls me back. My friends pace around the room, they don't talk to one another, they don't smile. It hurts me to see them like this, to see them looking so hopeless. They shouldn't have to suffer like this, not ever. And I can do nothing but stand here and slowly wither away. Alya sighs and sits in one of the plastic chairs.

"Do you want to go in and see her next?" It takes me a second to realize that she's talking to Adrien. "I can go after you."

"I don't know what to say." He sighs, sitting down next to Alya.

"We can go in with you." Nino reminds him.

Adrien doesn't speak, he simply shakes his head. I want to stay and listen, but my aunt and grandparents are waiting for me back in my room. I don't want to keep them waiting.

"Goodbye." I whisper. "I'm sorry."

I'm about to walk out the door, but I look back one last time.

"I love you." I tell them.

They can't hear me. They can't see me. I may as well be dead already. I run down the hallway as fast as I can. I'm faster like this. Not Ladybug fast, but still pretty fast. I don't seem to be as clumsy as I am in life either. Knowing me, I would have probably fallen flat on my face by now. I make it back to my hospital room in one piece. My grandmother is crying, tears flow out of her light blue eyes, the same ones she gave me. My heart feels heavy, like a rock in my chest. I wish that I could reassure them, tell them that I felt no pain. I wish that I could ask them for guidance. I wish that they could tell me what to do. I don't know how I could live without my parents, but I was unsure if I could die and leave everyone I love here.

"Marinette," I hear my grandfather's trembling voice as he stands by my bed. "The nurse said that it will help if we talk to you. Hello, sweetheart."

I'm not sure whether I should respond or not. I know that they can't hear me. Trying to talk to them now won't bring them support or comfort. So I sit on the edge of my cot, careful to avoid touching my unconscious body, and I watch them. My aunt hands my grandmother a tissue, she smiles gratefully and dries her eyes. My grandfather hangs his head, yet I can still see the tears forming in his eyes. I've never seen him cry before, I haven't seen any of them cry before. You hardly ever see adults cry, they are suppose to be the strong ones. They don't cry. And yet here were the people that I loved, broken and crying. My aunt is next to approach my bed, she stands next to my grandfather. I've never really realized just how much they look alike, the same brown hair, same face, same eyes. How much they look like my father. I feel tears start to form in my eyes, the pool and swim before falling down my cheeks. My poor father. My poor grandparents. My poor aunt. I lost my father, my aunt lost her brother, and my grandparents lost their son. My heart pounds quickly in my chest, my breathing becomes heavier. The heart monitor that is monitoring my pulse begins to beep faster as my heart rate increases. My family notices, their eyes going wide.

"It's alright cheri," My aunt soothes, her voice like a songbird. "We're all here for you."

She speaks with the same voice she used when I cried as a child. Except then I had been crying because I had scraped my knee, or some neighbour kid was bullying me, not this. Now I was in real pain, different pain. Pain that can't be fixed with a bandage and a kiss on the cheek. The two most important people in my life were gone. The people who kissed my forehead every morning and wished me sweet dreams every night. The people who used to tuck me into bed and sing me lullabies as a child. The people who bought me my first sewing machine and encouraged me to be anything that I wanted. The people who I can't live without.

"Your friends are here too," She tells me. "Lovely people, you've picked well. They obviously love you."

There was no denying the love that I had gotten from Alya and Nino. And Adrien. If he still loved me, that is. Why else would he come today? Out of guilt? Pity? Was he sorry?

"Please wake up," I hear my grandmother's voice tremble as she tries her best to breathe. "We're all waiting for you. We all love you."

I wish I could tell her that I could. But I don't want to make any promises, especially if I don't know if I can keep them. I don't know how I could stay without my parents. How can I live without them? What will I do without their support? Who will help me figure out exactly what it is I'm doing with my life? Who will I talk to about my problems? I might have to go. I can't stay without them. I look up and see my aunt lean forward towards my head. For a moment, I think that she is going to kiss my forehead like she did when I was little. But instead she stops next to my ear.

"I understand if you choose not to wake up," She whispers so that my grandparents can't hear, but I hear her soft voice clear as day. "I understand if it's too much. But please hold on just a bit longer so that those lovely friends of yours in the waiting room can say goodbye. I love you."

"I love you, too." I tell her confidently, wiping the tears from my eyes. "And I'll try."  
Just a few more hours so they can say goodbye. I can hold on that long.

* * *

-Adrien-

I still have the bracelet in my jacket pocket, the one that Marinette gave to me. I wonder if it would give me luck now like it did nearly three years ago. Maybe it would give me someone who would fully understand the gravity of my situation. I wasn't just Adrien losing Marinette, the girl that I dated for a little while in high school. I was Chat Noir, losing Ladybug. I was losing more than just my best friend. I was losing the love of my life. I was losing my partner. How can I explain that to Alya and Nino? They don't even know that we're Ladybug and Chat Noir. The best advice Plagg seems to offer is everything will be okay? But what if he's wrong? I guess that I could ask Tikki for advice, but something about that felt wrong. Tikki was Ladybug's kwami, not mine. She gave Ladybug advice, not me. I felt so alone without Marinette. Without the girl who gave me comfort, and love, and acceptance. I take the bracelet out of my pocket, staring at it as it lay in the palm of my hand. How does this good luck thing work? Do I make a wish? Do I rub it like some kind of genie in a bottle? What do I have to do to get Marinette here with me? With all of us, where she belongs. My Marinette, my Lady, I promise I'll treat you better if you stay. Or if you never want to see me again, that's fine too. Whatever you want, as long as you're happy.

"Hello?" The voice wakes me from my thoughts, it's high and feminine yet tinged with sadness.

I look up to see Mylene standing in the doorway, her messy blonde hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed all day. Towering above her was Ivan, a bouquet of yellow and white lilies in hand. Alya immediately stood from her seat and embraced her friend, Alya had at least a half a foot on Mylene even when the girl wore heels. Ivan smiled at Nino and I, I found myself smiling back.

"How is she?" Mylene asks, her voice filled with anxiety. Upon taking a closer look, I could see that her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was bright red. She had been crying.

"She's out of surgery." Alya replies. I hear Mylene sigh in relief, her body visibly relaxing.

"Good," She breathed. "Are we allowed to see her?"

"Her family is with her right now," Alya tells her. "We're going in next."

Mylene nods and takes another deep breath.

"Are Rose and Juleka with you?" Alya inquires.

"Rose needed a minute." Mylene responded with a nod.

Alya nods. "It's an emotional day, for all of us."

"Are Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng okay?" Mylene asks as an afterthought.

Alya can't bring herself to speak, to say the words. Once you say something, it becomes real. Of course you can hear bad news, but hearing it doesn't seem real. But once you say the words, it's different. Saying it means accepting reality, accepting something completely unfathomable. So Alya doesn't speak, she simply frowns and shakes her head. Mylene's eyes widen in realization, she covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp. I can see the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, Ivan gently rubs her back with his free hand. The scene is bittersweet, and I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness in my gut when I think about relationships. Here is a happy couple, a couple who has been together for a majority of lycee, and they'll probably stay together for long after. I thought that Mari and I would be like that. I thought that we'd have forever. A love to last a thousand years, but that wasn't the case now. When I think about the night of the argument, the night I messed up, it ruins me. I said terrible, horrible, things and I just wish that I could start over with her. From the beginning. That night in her room, when she gave me the lucky bracelet, I was too afraid to tell her the truth. That I was terrified that I would lose her forever. The curse of bad luck, everyone that I love leaves. And now her time might be running out, I might really be losing her forever. I want to tell her the truth. That I love her. That I will continue to love her forever. I will spend the rest of my life proving every day just how much I love her. If- no, when she wakes, if she choses to take me back then I will do everything in my power to make sure that she feels loved. I'll give her flowers every day, I'll kiss her when she's sad, I'll try my best to be the perfect boyfriend. If she wants me back. If. I stare at the lucky bracelet and silently hope. Hope that Marinette opens her eyes, hope that she takes a breath of air, hope that she lives a full life. Like she is meant to.

I zone out for a long time. Completely ignoring everything that is happening around me. I simply sit, lost in my own mind, and stare at the silly little lucky bracelet. I don't answer when Nino asks if I want something from the cafeteria. I don't look up when Alya gets a call from another classmate asking about Marinette. I don't notice when Rose and Juleka greet Alya, or when they cry together. I don't even notice Nathanael's bright red hair when he enters the room, sketchpad tucked under his arm. I don't hear Kim's loud mouth, nor Alix elbowing him in the rib, or Max with some medical fact. I don't notice Sabrina quietly enter the room without the presence of a certain mayor's daughter. I don't listen to the conversations they have, I only nod when they ask me if I'm okay. I'm lost and alone, staring at a bracelet, as if it's the only thing keeping Marinette alive. I don't look up when my name is called, nor do I notice everyone staring at me.

"Adrien!" Nino shakes my shoulders, jerking me back to reality.

I look up to see nearly all of my classmates crowded in the tiny waiting room. There are hardly enough seats for everyone and half of them are leaning against the walls. They talk amongst themselves, trying to get their minds off of why they're here. And then there's me, alone in a room filled with my friends.

"What is it?" I ask. Did I miss something important? Did the nurse come back?

"Marinette's grandparents are back, do you want to go see her?" He gives me an inviting smile, but I can tell that it's forced.

I want to see her. But then an image creeps into my mind. The image of her lying on a hospital bed, attached to a cold and unfeeling machine, fighting for her life. The image is completely terrifying, and I don't know if I'm ready to see that. As much as I want to see her, seeing her in so much pain would probably break me. What do I even say to her when I see her? Do I apologize? Do I tell her that I was stupid? Do I beg her to come back? Does she even want me back? I look at Nino, then across the room at Alya.

"You two go first." I tell them.

Alya is probably dying to see Marinette, she should go see her.

"Alright," Nino sighs, giving me a small pat on the shoulder. "We'll be right down the hall if you need us."

I watch him as he puts his arm around Alya, leading her out of the room and down the hallway. Right down the hall. The love of my life is right down the hall. And I have no idea how I'm supposed to get her back.

* * *

 **According to one of my sister's medical textbooks, comatose patients actually can hear what's going on around them. That's pretty cool.**

 **Sorry again about the late update. Between helping my sister with her move and working, I've also been in a bit of a creative rut. I kind of get that way during the summer, I'm better at writing fiction when I don't want to write my essays. But hey, sophmore year is starting soon. I hate my high school and everyone there is a bitch, so needless to say I'm not excited.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	12. Say Yes

Say Yes

 **Fluffies ahead! I don't own this show. Just a heads up, I won't be able to post next week because I am getting my wisdom teeth out, and I'll be sick for a few days. I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

"Did you finish the homework last night?" I ask Alya the second I slip into the seat next to her.

She eyes me curiously before nodding.

"I need to copy off of you." I confess.

She rolls her eyes and hands me her math folder. I have approximately four minutes before class starts to scribble down all of Alya's answers. Hopefully I won't be called up to the blackboard to explain how I got my answers, because frankly I don't know shit. I frantically copy the solutions, the numbers are meaningless as I write them in the blank spaces of my worksheet.

"You want to tell me what you were doing last night?" Alya interrogates me with a devilish smirk crossing her face.

"Portfolio stuff." I mutter, not looking up from the worksheet.

"Liar." She accuses. "I know that you submitted your portfolio yesterday morning."

She does know. She knows my own schedule better than I do. She's crazy and invasive, but I couldn't have asked for a better best friend. Unlike most of the people I've told, she wasn't surprised when I told her that I wanted to go to London for university. She was also the person I would call in the middle of the night whenever I felt hopeless, like I would never be good enough to get into fashion school. Alya is so incredibly supportive of me, I owe her a lot for helping me gain confidence in myself.

"Right, I'm just stressed." I tell her.

It's not a lie. I'm very stressed. I still have a few more months of school left before getting my diploma, meaning that I have to achieve the best grades that I can possibly get. Which also means studying all night and drinking an insane amount of coffee. I already know that I'm getting honour roll, I've worked hard enough for it. I had to work twice as hard the last four years to keep up with both saving Paris and my schoolwork. But now that Hawkmoth is gone I can focus solely on my schoolwork. Well, that and my designs.

"Morning." I hear a cheerful voice greet me.

I look up from the math worksheet to see Adrien slide into the seat in front of me. He wore a small, yet mischievous smile on his face. He gently took my hand, the one tightly gripping my pen, and placed a delicate kiss on my wrist. Right in front of Alya. Who proceeded to scream. Loudly. Right in my ear. Thanks, Adrien.

When she screams, every eye in the classroom is suddenly on us. I receive curious glances from all of my classmates, and a thumbs up from a pleasantly shocked Nino. I'm used to having attention as Ladybug, that is to be expected when you're a superhero. But at least when I'm hiding behind a mask, nobody can judge me. Having this kind of attention as Marinette feels uncomfortable.

"So that's what was keeping you up last night?" Alya squeaked after she had finished screaming like a banshee.

Adrien and I looked at each other, he was trying his best to keep in a laugh, biting on his bottom lip. I, on the other hand, wanted to flick him in the ear, or worse. Now Alya is going to bombard me with questions, meaning I have to make up a bunch of lies to protect both of our identities. I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her. I mean, Adrien and I just talked last night, nothing happened. We are not together, at least we are not officially together. We're in that weird grey area between dating and more than friends, which can only be described as being awkward as hell. I look back to Alya, she's smiling gleefully, practically shaking with excitement. She's like a firecracker about to explode.

"It's not like that." I whisper.

Alya playfully slaps me on the shoulder. It isn't hard, but it stings just enough to let me know that she doesn't believe a thing that I'm telling her. I roll my eyes at her and force myself to focus on copying down the last few answers before class, I can feel Alya's eyes burning holes in my skull. I can only imagine what Chloe's face looks like right now. Despite my better judgement, I look to my right. Yup, Chloe definitely saw Adrien kiss my hand because now she is giving me this bitter death glare. As if she didn't hate me enough.

That is when the late bell rang loudly in my ear, radiating throughout the classroom. I slid Alya's math worksheet back to her, making sure not to make eye contact with her as I did so. I try to listen to the lesson, I try to focus on taking notes, but I can't. All that I can think about is how the bell will inevitably ring, and I'm fairly uncertain of what will happen after that. Sure, Alya will ask ten thousand questions. Sure, I probably won't be able to correctly answer any of them. Or at least, I won't give her the answers that she wants. Adrien isn't my boyfriend. I feel a small twinge of pain sting my heart at that sentence. Adrien Agreste is not my boyfriend. Do I want him to be my boyfriend? Of course. Will we become a couple in the future? Maybe. I think. He seemed rather disappointed when I told him that I wanted to go to London. Maybe he doesn't want to start something with me if I'm just going to leave. That's understandable, and it doesn't mean that we can't still be friends. That thought gave me a terrible feeling right in the pit of my stomach. I don't think that I could handle just being friends with him. Sure, I've managed to handle it for nearly four years, but everything was different now. Everything was better now.

I don't hear the lunch bell as it chimes and signals that morning classes are over. I don't look up from the piece of paper in front of me, blank except for my name and the date at the top. I don't stand up from my seat, even though the wooden bench is hard and uncomfortable. I hear footsteps of my classmates as they exit the room, cheerful chatter fills my ears. I don't moved until someone grabs my shoulder in a tight death grip. And it isn't Alya.

"Want to explain to me what that little PDA was this morning?" Chloe's snobbish voice intrudes my thoughts as I look up at her.

"Nothing." I reply simply, packing up my books and frantically shoving them into my bookbag. I really don't feel like dealing with Chloe's shit right now.

Her grip on my shoulder doesn't weaken, she tries to push me back down when I stand up. I glare at her, eyes narrowed at her, a tight-lipped frown crossing my face. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something that I know that I'll regret. Take a deep breath Marinette, she doesn't deserve my time, she isn't worth getting angry. In a few months I will be free of her, I'll never have to see her again.

"If you think that I believe that for one second then you have another thing coming." Chloe tries to sound threatening, but she really doesn't scare me anymore.

I gently remove her hand from my shoulder and sling my knapsack over my shoulder. The best part about all of this is that I don't owe her an explanation. She mutters something that I don't quite catch, but it hardly matters. I walk around the blonde girl, who is standing like a statue with her hands glued to her hips. She thinks that she's intimidating. If one person in class isn't ready to graduate and take on the real world, it's Chloe. Not because she hasn't decided on a university or an area of study, but simply because of the way she acts. She doesn't realize that her childish 'I'm better than you' attitude isn't going to be accepted in the real world. She is already eighteen, but she doesn't act like it. Chloe needs to learn to grow up, mature and become a real adult.

I exit the classroom, leaving Chloe seething where she stood. Alya is waiting for me in the hallway, tapping her foot anxiously. Nino was standing behind her, dragging a very annoyed-looking Adrien behind him. Alya doesn't say anything, she saunters up to me like she owns the place, grabs me by the sleeve of my jacket and drags me away, Nino and Adrien following behind us. While I didn't have to tell Chloe a thing, I have to tell Alya everything. Or at least, everything that I can answer. Alya drags me down the steps of the school and into the courtyard, where the sun is beating down on our heads. While it's still a relatively cool day, the sun has decided to grace us with its presence. It doesn't do much to warm the Earth, but it makes me feel as though Spring has arrived early. Alya sits me down on a stone bench in the courtyard, Nino forces Adrien to sit next to me. They are both staring at us with their arms crossed, like they're parents lecturing their children.

"What is this?" Alya asks, gesturing between Adrien and I.

"Yeah, are you, you know?" Nino finally asks, putting his hands together and making an 'ooh' sound with his mouth.

The two of us look at each other, blue eyes meeting green. He has the same deer in the headlights look that I do, and neither of us are sure of what to say to her. He smiles at me anxiously, and the warm feeling returns to my body, hitting me like a crashing tidal wave of emotions. I feel very strongly for him, something that goes beyond a simple teenage hormone-induced attraction. But I'm not going to tell him that. Ever.

"This is, uh…" I stutter and stumble, I can't find the words to describe whatever we are.

I can't say we're together, because we aren't. And I can't say that we're just friends, because that's not it either. I can't say anything. If I speak then I know that I'll say the wrong thing. I might have a chance with Adrien. We know that we like each other. But whether or not we're going to give a relationship a shot is kind of up in the air. He knows that I might be leaving. Time and distance might not be in our favour. I open my mouth to try and speak again, but my words get caught in my throat. I look down at my shaking hands, my palms are slick with sweat. This should be easy, a simple yes or no answer. Why is everything so unnecessarily complicated? No matter what I say it will be the wrong thing. The silence only fuels my anxiety, and I'm afraid to make eye contact with anyone. Maybe if I close my eyes tight enough the world will go away. I'm seriously contemplating transforming right here, right now, and jumping over every rooftop until I leave the city behind.

"I haven't asked her out yet." Adrien finally breaks the silence.

"Well, you've waited this long." Alya whispers, Nino lets out a small snort.

"We only just found out we like each other," I try. Nino and Alya burst out laughing. "It's only been a day."

Alya and Nino are still laughing. Nino is clutching his sides and Alya's face is so red that I'm wondering if she can even breathe. Adrien and I look at each other again, identical expressions of confusion crossing our faces. Adrien gives me a subtle shrug, letting me know that he doesn't understand either.

"It hasn't been a day," Nino gasps through is hysteria. "It's been four damn years."

It takes at least five minutes for the two of them to calm down, at which point I just want to go home because I'm starving. It's at least twenty minutes past twelve by now, my parents are expecting me back at the bakery, my lunch is probably already cold. My stomach growls angrily, as though it is mad at my best friends for keeping it from food.

"Well if you'll excuse me," Alya smirked after finally catching her breath. "Now that Adrien and Marinette are together, certain people owe me money."

My eyes grow to the size of plates, my jaw becomes slack. I look at Adrien, then Nino, and then back to Alya. She didn't.

"Did you bet on our relationship?" I'm hesitant to ask. And shocked, definitely shocked. But at the same time, I kind of want to laugh.

"Maybe." Alya squeaked.

"We did." Nino overlapped Alya, who smacked him on the shoulder playfully. "What? The whole class bet on them."

I feel the blood immediately rushing to my cheeks and I feel the overwhelming urge to escape again. Plus my stomach is groaning in starvation and I really just want food.

"The whole class?" It was Adrien's turn to be shocked.

The look on his face was amusing. He was sort of just sitting next to me, completely still like a statue. His eyes were open wide, his cheeks were as red as a tomato, his mouth was open ever so slightly. Alya and Nino stifled another giggle before bolting off in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Adrien called after them, standing up from his seat on the bench. I could hear Alya and Nino laughing as they ran. "You both have explaining to do."

My stomach growled ferociously again, letting me know that it was time to go. I smirked as I watched Alya and Nino take off, they were completely ridiculous, and I adored the both of them. I slowly stood up from my seat, dusting the dirt off of my pants as I did. I was about to turn away and head down the sidewalk when I felt a hand on my arm. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"So, how about it?" Adrien's voice quaking, as though he was nervous about something.

I turned around to look at him. His face was still completely red, he stared down at the floor with a bashful smile on his face, he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"What?" I inquired.

I knew exactly what he was going to ask. Or at least, my teenage hormone filled mind was jumping to conclusions.

"Marinette," He started, tapping his foot anxiously. He smiled at me, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Are you free on Friday?"

I don't think that I've ever said yes faster in my entire life.

* * *

-Adrien-

Friday doesn't come around fast enough, and at the same time the day is here too quickly. It's five in the afternoon, I'm wearing a nice jacket, my hair is perfectly combed, and I've brushed my teeth twice. I stand outside the door to her apartment, and I can't force my hand to knock. One of my hands is shaking anxiously at my side while the other is clutching the rose that I had picked up from the florist. It's a pretty colour, a light pink, Mari loves this colour because it brings out the blue in her eyes. Those pretty blue eyes. My foot won't stop tapping on the floor, and my leg refuses to stop shaking. It appears that I can't stand absolutely still for longer than one second. The butterflies in my stomach made it difficult to breathe. I could feel my heart doing flips in my chest. Oh, God I hope that I can remember how to speak. How long have I been standing outside her door? A minute? An hour? A day? I've completely lost track of time. Okay, so I'm nervous. I'm Adrien Agreste, semi-famous model and son of the most affluent man in all of Paris, and I'm nervous as fuck for my very first date. This isn't just my first date, it's also probably her's. This night has to be memorable, it has to be something that we're both going to look back on as a good experience. And it could potentially go terribly wrong. This isn't a date with just anyone, this is a date with Marinette, a date with Ladybug. This is a date with the girl that I have been completely hopelessly in love with for the last four years of my life. This date has to be perfect. I force myself to take a deep breath, reminding myself that she is probably just as nervous as I am. I force myself to knock on the door before I lose my nerve, the noise echoing through my brain. No turning back now. I take another breath as the doorknob turns, agonizingly slowly, and the door creaks open. Marinette's mother stands in the doorway, a sweet and welcoming smile on her face.

"Hello Adrien," She greets, opening the door for me. "It's lovely to see you again."  
"You too." I smile politely, trying not to look like I'm about to explode into a big pile of nerves.

"Marinette will be right down," Mrs. Dupain-Cheng guides me to the living area, a plate of cookies has been left on the coffee table. "Take a seat, help yourself to a cookie."

I'm taking Marinette out for dinner, so I don't want to spoil my appetite. But those cookies just look so tempting, and it would be rude to decline a treat after Mrs. Dupain-Cheng offered. So I take a cookie, which is absolutely heavenly. There isn't too much sugar, but it's still perfectly sweet, the chocolate chips melt in my mouth. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng notices my smile and stifles a chuckle.

"There's plenty more where those came from," She tells me. "Isn't that right, Tom?"

I spin around in my seat, and Marinette's father is looming over me. He's tall. Like, scary tall. It's a tad intimidating, I'll admit to that. Marinette has assured me that her father is basically a giant teddy bear, which makes me feel better.

"We also have leftover croissants if you want some." He tells me. I don't know if it's just nerves, but his voice seems deeper than the last time I spoke with him.

"Papa, stop trying to force feed people." A voice trills from the top of the stairs.

I look up and my breath immediately stops. Marinette looks absolutely stunning. She's wearing a casual sundress, pink of course, with a pair of strappy tan sandals. On her wrist is a string of gold bands, and her hair is done up in a bun instead of its usual pigtails. I don't stop the smile that's growing on my face as I stand up from the couch. I take a mental picture of her in my mind as she descends the stairs, the skirt of her dress billows as she walks. I grip the flower in my hand as all of the words that I want to say get stuck in my throat.

"Hi Adrien." She greets me. She seems so small when she's standing in front of me, but her smile is bigger than anything I've ever seen.

"Hey." I manage to sputter out. I force myself to moved the hand with the flower in it, offering it to her. "I got you something."

She smiles and carefully takes the rose from my hand, our fingers gently brushing together in the process. I feel a jolt of electricity shoot up my body, I see Marinette's eyes go wide for a moment and her face slowly turns crimson, and I know that she felt it too.

"Thank you," Her voice shakes as she smiles down at the flower in her hand. "Should we go?"

Why am I suddenly so nervous around her? I've been imagining this moment for the better part of the last four years. Taking the girl behind the mask out on a date. I had everything planned out in my head so perfectly, and now I'm completely frozen. Take a deep breath Adrien, this is Marinette. She is your friend. You are going to go out and have the perfect date. Oh God, what if it's not perfect? What if something goes wrong? What if I spill something on my shirt? Or say the wrong thing. Breathe Adrien, breathe.

"Uh, yeah." I manage to stutter, holding my arm out for her to take.

She smiles demurely and accepts my arm, she feels warm and soft. She is so unbelievable in the best way possible.

"Oh, I need to take a picture." Mrs. Dupain-Cheng gushes, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"Mom!" Marinette whines. I don't know how it's possible, but her face has become an even darker shade of red.

I think it's cute that her mother cares enough to take a picture of her daughter going on her first date. I wish that I had someone who would do that for me. Sadly, my mother was nowhere to be found and my father probably thought that I was in my bedroom studying. He hasn't been home in a few days, but that's normal in the Agreste household. It doesn't really matter to me if my father doesn't get to take a photo of me before going on my first date. But it sort of stings that my mom isn't here to see this. That she will never give me dating advice, or remind me to relax and be my charming self. She will never see me smile for a picture like this, wearing a genuine smile on my face and standing next to a beautiful girl whom I love more than life itself. When our photo op is finished, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng wish us well, also reminding us to be home by nine. I hail a taxi from the street and tell the driver the address.

"Where are we going?" Marinette asks, slipping into the leather seat and buckling herself in.

"It's a surprise." I tell her. An excited, yet nervous smile crosses her lips. I love that smile.

The cab rolls down the street, bumping and shaking along the unevenly paved streets. The sun is steadily getting lower in the sky, which is slowly turning shades of red and pink. It's then that I feel a warmth grazing past my fingers. I look down and notice Marinette's hand is right next to mine, slowly inching closer. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks again as my eyes flicker between her perfectly manicured hand and the bright smile that crosses her face. Should I hold her hand? Does she want me to hold her hand? How do I know if she wants me to hold her hand?

The taxi screeches to a stop before I can make my decision. At first I think that Marinette is going to exit the vehicle and wait for me by the curb, but she doesn't. Instead she stays in her seat, only moving to unbuckle her seatbelt. It takes me a moment before I realize that she's waiting for me to pay the driver. I fiddle with my wallet before handing the driver the appropriate amount of euros. I let Marinette get out first and I follow close behind her. She stands in front of the restaurant, a popular local hotspot run by a world famous chef.

The inside is nice, the sleek walls are covered with photography, and fancy lights hang from the ceiling. The host leads Marinette and I to a private table in the back, covered in a white tablecloth and decorated with candles. I pull out Marinette's chair for her, and she represses a small chuckle as she sits down.

"Adrien," She gasps, immediately after opening the menu. "This is ludicrously expensive, I won't be able to pay for any of this."

"Well then, it's a good thing that I'm treating you." I tell her, taking a look at my own menu.

"I can't let you do that." She responds, closing the menu again and placing it in her lap.

"Why not?" I start getting worried after that. Am I not supposed to pay for everything? Are we supposed to go dutch on our first date? That's the more casual thing to do, right?

"I'll feel guilty." She admits, anxiously adjusting her skirt.

"Don't." I insist, simultaneously praying that I don't sound like a pretentious rich boy.

She opens her mouth again and then closes it before letting out a small sigh. Her face is still completely red. Note to self, do not take a girl to the most expensive restaurant in Paris for your first date.

"Okay," She gives in. "But I'm paying for ice cream after."

I can't stop the ear to ear grin that appears on my face, nor can I stop the small chuckle that bubbles in my throat.

"Deal." I tell her.

I don't think that her smile fades for the remainder of our dinner. We talk about anything and everything. She asks me about me, about how I'm doing, how I'm feeling. And there's this feeling of safety when I'm with her, this comfort that makes me want to tell her everything. I don't feel alone when I'm with her. I've felt completely isolated since my mom left. But for her I smile, I laugh at her jokes, a real, genuine, laughter that I myself haven't heard in years. I pretend not to notice when she orders the cheapest dish on the menu, even though I want to tell her to treat herself. She deserves to feel like a queen every day of her life. We're so caught up in our conversation that, after we finish, our bill lies untouched on the table for a good half hour before I pay. We're having such a great time together that I completely forget about the pressure to be perfect, I forget that I was ever alone. She's something spectacular, Marinette.

She keeps her word and pays for ice cream afterwards. It's a short walk to the parlour, a clean and well-lit place just around the corner from the Eiffel Tower. The neon sign is lit like a beacon in the night, rivaled only by the streetlights that line the roads. The world has turned dark again, the clouds cover the moon and any stars, refusing to let their light grace the Earth. But it's bright in the ice cream parlour, although it is slightly chilly. I see Marinette shivering ever so slightly. Should I give her my jacket? That's what I'm supposed to do, right?

"What flavour would you like?" She asks, her voice as sweet as sugar.

"Oh, chocolate chip." I reply with a smile.

She orders the ice cream, along with an orange sherbet for herself. She pays for the treat and we find a nice bench to sit at outside, one with a perfect view of the tower. How many nights have I spent with her in this city, how many times have we sat on top of that tower and watched the city below. Too many times to count. It's dark outside, but the light from the streetlamp shines down on the both of us like a spotlight. The light illuminates her face and gives off the illusion that she's glowing as she eats her ice cream. She eventually stops eating and looks at me oddly. Crap, how long have I been staring at her? That is when I realize that I have not even taken a bite of my ice cream, and the frozen treat has melted into a runny mess. She chuckles and hands me a few napkins.

"Not hungry?" She inquires with a sly smirk.

I take my first bite of ice cream, which I could probably pour into a cup and drink at this point. The dessert is still cold and creamy, and it tastes absolutely heavenly and sugary in my mouth. Marinette is still giggling as she wipes her mouth with one of the extra napkins. She's fairly careful with her treat, making sure that none of it spills on her dress. It's one of her creations, I know that. I wonder if she designed it for a special occasion, or if it was just a fun project she decided to take on because she had extra fabric. The garment is very flattering on her, the shape compliments her body, the colour brings out her eyes, and the cut makes her look just a bit taller.

"Your dress is nice." I tell her. "Is that one of the designs you used for your portfolio?"

"No," She replies, taking another bite of ice cream. "The design is too simple."

"Have you heard back from anywhere yet?" I ask.

"Not yet," She tells me. "But I should get a yes or no from London within the next week or two."

The way she says London is so full of hope and longing. Is it bad that I don't want her to get in? Yes. Is it selfish? Definitely. She wants to go to London. She wants to leave Paris. She wants to achieve things that she never will if she stays here. She might leave. She might leave me behind. And I might be alone again. While my heart twists painfully in my chest, I keep smiling for her.

"You haven't told me," She says as though she has just remembered. "What are you doing next year?"

Next year is a bit of a wild card for me. It's sort of a toss between what I want for my future and what father wants for my future. My father will probably get his way in the end. He always does. I just wish that he would hear me out, respect that I don't want the same things that he wants.

"Well, father wants me to continue modelling," I respond, my smile finally falling from my face. "He wants me to-"  
"What do you want?" She interrupts.

I'm caught off guard for a moment. Nobody has ever asked me what I want. Or, at least, nobody has ever cared to listen.

"What do you want to do next year?" She repeats.

I only applied to a few universities. While my friends applied to ten programs at the least, I only applied to three. I've heard back from one, the only one that really matters to me. University of Paris, currently undeclared major. It's the university that my mother went to. I've been without her for so long, I want to be somewhere I feel connected to her again.

"I'm not entirely sure," I tell her. "I've always been so focused on what my father wants that I've never really focused on what I want."

I look at her, surprised to see that she's still listening. Nobody ever listens to me the way she does.

"I applied to the University of Paris, undeclared," I tell her. "And I got my acceptance letter a few days ago."  
She smiles at me, a real smile filled with actual excitement. My father was not this excited when I told him.

"That's great, Adrien." She replies, she sounds happy. Like she's proud of me.

She shifts closer to me on the bench, gently placing her hand on top of mine. The electric shock returns, filling my body with warmth and comfort, but also love. Marinette wants me to succeed. She wants me to do what I want, she wants what makes me happy. I've never gotten that from my father. I find myself absentmindedly moving closer to her, my fingers intertwined with her's. She smells like flowers, a scent that is completely exhilarating, and I can practically smell the ice cream on her breath. Her lips are pink and glossy, and I wonder if they taste like sherbet. Her face is so close to mine, I lose the ability to breathe. Oh, is air important? I can't remember. Her face is only a few centimeters away from mine, our noses are just barely touching. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. I take that as my cue to lean in.

She does indeed taste like orange sherbet, with just the slightest hint of spearmint. Her lips are frozen from the treat, but mine are quickly warming them up. Her grip tightens on my hand, a comforting and exhilarating feeling. Her lips are just as soft as I remember them, just as irresistible. We haven't kissed since that night on top of the Eiffel Tower, we have never kissed as Marinette and Adrien.

This is and isn't our first kiss.

Yet, it is absolutely perfect.

* * *

 **I have never made Adrien's part this long before. As much as I wanted to make their first date in Mari's pov, I feel like we don't see Adrien's nervous side enough in fan fictions, especially when it comes to dating. I feel like Adrien would know next to nothing about dating or girls or anything because who's gonna give him the talk? Definitely not his father.**

 **Sorry again that there wont be an update for next week, blame overpriced tooth surgery. Seriously, my sister should really consider switching her major to orthodontics, that's where the money is.**

 **Hope that you enjoyed!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	13. Say You Care

Say You Care

 **Hey everyone. Sorry for the wait, but I was in pain all week. Getting your wisdom teeth pulled is not fun at all. Anyways, enjoy chapter thirteen!**

* * *

-Marinette-

I want to cry once my grandparents and aunt leave. I want to curl up into a ball on the dirty hospital floor and cry my eyes out. I want to cry for them. For my parents. For everyone that I have ever loved. But I take a deep breath, and remind myself that the pain will be over soon. I'll drift away, and they'll forget. Life isn't meant to be sad. Life is meant to be lived, happily. My parents knew that better than anyone. Always sweet and optimistic, always loving and compassionate. I don't think I had ever seen my parents frown or cry. Our home was always filled with love, the way it should be. I was lucky that I had them, such beautiful people, and they were my family. I wish that I could go back to my home, hear my parents humming in the kitchen as they baked pastries. But now that home was cold and empty. My parents weren't humming in the kitchen, the smell of fresh bread didn't fill the apartment. They were gone. Everything was gone. What was the point in going back to a place without love, and light, and music? I sat on my cot, looking down at my unconscious body. She was so still and tranquil. For all anyone knew, she could be dreaming happy dreams, about her parents baking pastries in their apartment. That sounded better than wandering around a hospital like a lost spirit, an entity of absolutely nothing.

That's when the door opens again. Standing there, still as a statue, is Alya. She looks terrified, her eyes wide as she stares at my unconscious body. Her face is red and her eyes are bloodshot, she looks so sad and distraught. I wish that she could see me. I wish that I could reach out and touch her, hug her, tell her that she shouldn't be sad. But I can't. I can only watch her as she rushes to my bedside, Nino close behind her. She opens her mouth to speak, but she's so choked up that she can hardly say anything.

"Hi Alya." I try my best to smile for her, but knowing that she can't see it makes my heart ache in my chest.

"Mari," She whispers. Although she closes her eyes tightly, a few tears escape. Then she takes a deep breath. "No," She tells herself, wiping the tears as quickly as they fall. "I'm tired of crying."

"Then don't," I tell her. "I don't want you to cry over me."

What's the point? She can't hear me. I watch the two of them, Nino grips Alya's hand tightly for support, unshed tears swimming in his eyes. I don't think that I've ever seen him cry. I listen to their silence, filled only by Alya's shaky breath.

"Alya," I continue despite logic or reason. "Don't be sad. I'll be okay, I'll be with my parents."  
I watch as Nino puts his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He gently strokes her head, trying to calm her. I say her name again, louder this time. Obviously, she doesn't react. Neither does Nino. They can't hear me. I can't tell them how much I love them, or how glad I am that they are here. How much I want to laugh with them, and cry with them. If only they could hear me. I would say everything that I've ever wanted to say to them. Maybe I'd even tell them about Ladybug. How I spent years saving Paris from akuma. I wonder how they'd react. Would they be excited? Happy? Or would they be disappointed? Would they be angry that I hadn't told them sooner? It's a shame that I never had the courage to tell them. Who knows? Maybe if I had more time, I would have. Maybe when I'm gone, Adrien will tell them. Now all I have to do is let them say goodbye, and I can be on my way.

"It's hard to see her like this." Alya whispers into Nino's chest.

"I know," Nino replies, placing a soft kiss on top of her head. "No one should have to suffer like this."

I want to tell them that I'm not suffering. But even though I feel no pain, I am suffering. I feel this ache in my chest, a hole that may never be filled. A pain that I know will never go away as long as I live. And there is no reason for me to. I have no one to turn to, nobody who can help me through this time. I want to cry again. But, just like Alya, I'm tired of crying. I watch as Alya nods and lets go of Nino. She turns to me, my unconscious self, and takes a deep breath.

"Hey Marinette," Her voice is low, it trembles and quakes. She takes another deep breath. "I really hope you wake up soon."

I can't Alya. I can't live without my parents.

"I know that things are hard right now," She sympathizes. "But everyone's here waiting for you. Your family, everyone in our class is here to support you, and Adrien. Adrien is here."

Everyone in our class is here? I saw the two of them in the waiting room with Adrien, but not the entire class. When did they get here?

"Please wake up Mari," It's Nino who speaks this time. "We'll always be with you, we'll always support you."

I can't. You know I can't.

"We're your family Marinette." Alya whispers, placing her hand on top of mine. "We're going to get through this, all of us."

She gives my hand a light squeeze. Although I am unconscious, I swear that I can feel the love and warmth radiating through my skin. Then she smiles, the first genuine smile that I have seen on her face all day. The smile that is so strong and beautiful it could light up the world. The smile that she should always have on her face. This smile is made of hope, hope that I will wake up and smile with her again someday. Would it be selfish to leave? Would it be selfish to leave Alya, and Nino, and even Adrien? No. It isn't. If I do not think that I can stay, then I don't have to.

"Now we're going to go so that everyone else can see you," Alya tells me. "But we'll be back really soon."

She gently moves my bangs out of my face and places a soft kiss on my forehead. She and Nino don't stop watching me as they leave. They linger for a moment, as though they are waiting for me to suddenly awaken, alive, happy, and well. But I don't. There is no mistaking the depressed look on Alya's face as she walks out of the room. Then I'm alone with my thoughts once again. I look down at my unconscious form, I'm afraid to touch her- me. So I simply watch her breathe. My eyes trail down to the earrings still stuck into my ears. Tikki where are you? Why can't you be here to give me advice and support? I suddenly feel sick to my stomach again, not a nauseous sick, just sick. Like there's a virus slowly eating me, consuming every part of me, and it will continue until there is nothing left. I'm alone. I'm all alone. I have no one to laugh with. I have no one to talk to. I have nothing. I am nothing. I'm here. I'm breathing. But inside I'm already gone.

"Marinette?" A new voice catches my attention.

I can do nothing but stare at the sight before me. Standing in the doorway is everyone I know. Everyone I went to school with. Some hold flowers and others simply stand around my bed, trying their best to smile, even though I know they want to burst into tears.

"Hi sweetheart," It's Mylene who speaks first. She walks over to my bed, her heels clicking on the tile floor. "We're glad to see that you're out of surgery."

"Why are we talking to her?" I hear Kim's voice from the doorway. "She can't hear us."

I let out a small chuckle. Oh, Kim, if only you knew.

"Actually, studies show that while she is in a comatose state, hearing familiar voices aids her in recovery." Max informs the room.

"Anyways," Mylene continues. "We brought you flowers."  
I watch as Ivan places a bouquet of lilies on my bedside table.

"The florist said that yellow brings health and good fortune." She continued.

I hear a small sniffle from the other side of the room. Sure enough, there's Rose, crying. Juleka wraps her arm around the short blonde, kissing the side of her head gently.

"Please wake up." She chokes. "You're such a good friend to everyone, we're all here because we love you. Please."

The small girl starts breathing heavily to the point where she can no longer speak. Her face turns white and she looks as though she is about to faint. Juleka realizes that the poor girl is dangerously close to having a panic attack. She gently rubs her girlfriend's back and calmly escorts her out of the room. To my surprise, Sabrina is the next person to step forward, holding a single pink carnation. She places it on the bedside next to the lilies.

"I'm sorry that I was rude to you." She whispers. "I remember you said that pink was your favourite colour."

That was nice of her. I hadn't expected Sabrina to visit me.

Alix steps up next. The short hair that she had dyed pink when we were younger is now bright blue.

"I never thanked you for always cheering me on." She tells me with a smile. "I need you to keep cheering for me, okay?"

Even though she smiles, I can see her biting the inside of her cheek, she's trying not to cry. I didn't even know that Alix had tear ducts. She takes a step back for the next person to see me. It's Nathanael, he places a piece of paper on my nightstand, a black and white sketch, a portrait of me. He's gotten significantly better at drawing in the last few years. He's captured every detail of my face, right down to the line of freckles across my nose. It must have taken hours. It was incredibly beautiful.

"Art is suppose to make you feel something," His voice is low and his face is as red as his hair. "You have always been art to me, Marinette."

All of my friends, standing in one room, telling me how much they love me. How much I mean to them. I can't help but feel love for all of them, I couldn't have asked for better people. They want me to be okay, they want me to continue. And I wish that they could hear me. I wish that I could explain to them that I need to moved on, to be with my family. Slowly my friends leave my bedside. Sabrina is the first to go, head hung sadly, tears in her turquoise eyes. I wonder if I should have tried harder to reach out to her, I know that her friendship with Chloe wasn't the best. She would actually be a decent person if it were not for Chloe's influence. Alix follows a few minutes later, when her brother arrives to pick her up. Kim and Max leave together, having been silent for most of the visit. I don't blame them for being so quiet. What exactly can you say in a situation like this? All one can do is offer words of comfort. Nathanael leaves next, slower than everyone else, he stalls and looks back for a moment before finally exiting the room. Mylene and Ivan stay the longest, they sit by my bed and watch me, waiting for me to move.

"Come back Mari." Mylene hums sadly. "We're all waiting for you."

Ivan puts his arm around his girlfriend.

"We should go," He whispers. Mylene nods, but only hesitantly, she doesn't move. "I'm sure that a certain someone wants to see her, and I don't think he wants an audience."

Mylene nods again, the tiniest smile appearing on her face. I listen to the click of her heels and the squeak of his sneakers on the tile floor as they make their way back down the hallway to the waiting room. And I'm alone again. An empty entity wandering endlessly. If I stay here for much longer, I'm going to go crazy. Seeing my friends didn't make the pain go away. I still feel like someone has taken a part of me, like I'm trying to walk without legs, or trying to see without eyes. I feel like someone has abducted me, trapped me in a world that I don't understand. I have no one here with me. No one to turn to, no one to care. I can't do this alone, and yet I must. I wish that someone could hear me. I wish that someone could see me. I wish that there was someone who understood.

I suddenly hear the clicking of heels on the tile floor again. For a moment, I think that it's Mylene, but it isn't. When Mylene walks in heels she's graceful and dainty like a ballerina, her heels make a delicate sound. These heels sound angry, the way they stomp and clack on the floor indicates the intensity of the person. No, this wasn't Mylene, this was the last person that I would have expected.

* * *

-Adrien-

Just get up off that stupid plastic chair and go see her. It shouldn't be that hard. So why is it? Why am I afraid to see her? Because the last time I spoke to her we were angry, and now I might never get the chance to make things right. I thought that I was doing the right thing by giving her space, by giving her time. If I could go back a few weeks, I would have immediately called her, apologized for every stupid thing that I have ever done. I can only think about what might have been, how I could have made everything better. I keep thinking about us, about how happy we were. How the only arguments we'd have were about who would pay for dinner or where we'd go for our next date. I think about how we would hold each other close, how soft her skin felt, the taste of her lipgloss. I think about what it was like being her partner, being Chat Noir and Ladybug. How it was special, and intimate, like a secret club for just the two of us. I tried to remember when all of that was mine. I think about when the city was ours. I think about the nights we spent on rooftops, private little moments in alleyways filled with stolen kisses. I think about our three in the morning chats, our late night patrols. I think about the intensity of her kiss that night in my room, and I tried to forget the argument that occurred that same night. You never think about the fact that you'll have your last kiss with someone, you'll have your last date, your last day together. Sometimes you know the day is coming, you prepare for it. But when someone is suddenly ripped from your life, completely unexpectedly, it's like the world has stopped spinning. One minute things can be normal and natural, and then the next minute everything can be taken away from you. How am I supposed to face Marinette after all of the things that I've said to her? I've pondered for weeks, wondering if I should call her, but I never knew what to say. I still don't know what to say. I think about us, about our first kiss on the tower, about our first date, our first everything. I can't imagine doing any of that with anyone else, I don't want to be with anyone else. These are the things that I should be telling her, I shouldn't be sitting here thinking them. All of my friends have seen her, they brought her flowers, gave her words of love. They knew exactly what to say to her. I wish that I knew what to say, how to speak to her. But I don't. How do you speak to the person who means everything to you when for the last few weeks they've been treating you like a stranger? I want to see her, I want to tell her that I'm still here, that I'll always be here. That I'll always love her.

I only look up when I hear the sound of crying. There's Rose, her face buried in Juleka's neck, the taller girl gently stroking the blonde's hair. Her face is completely red and her eyes are bloodshot. Juleka kisses her girlfriend's cheek lightly, a comforting gesture that turns Rose's frantic breathing into deep, calm breaths.

"I'm going to take her home." Juleka tells Alya. "Call me if anything changes."

Alya nodded and hugged both girls tightly, thanking them for coming. Rose picked her bag up off one of the plastic chairs and sent a reassuring smile in my direction before leaving with Juleka. I watched the two girls go, arms linked, their pace slow as though they were hesitant to leave. Nobody wants to leave their friend in a state like this. One by one, my classmates return. Sabrina comes back first, but she doesn't stay long. Alix hugs Alya goodbye and leaves with her brother, wishing Marinette the best of luck. Kim and Max stay, so do Ivan and Mylene, they talk amongst themselves, I don't listen to their conversation. Nathanael stays as well, he sits by himself with his nose buried in his sketchbook, only looking up occasionally when footsteps approach the door. I've caught Alya and Nino doing the same, and I'm sure they see me doing it too. Whenever footsteps approach the door, we wonder if it's for us. If the squeaking of shoes on the tile floor is a nurse or a doctor, here to give us an update. It makes me feel anxious whenever I hear footsteps approaching the door. I just keep thinking, is this it? Is someone about to walk into this room and deliver the worst news of my life? Or the best? My stomach felt tight and my hands twitched nervously. If I was afraid before, then now I was on a whole other level. Every so often Nino or Alya would look my way, searching for any indication that I was going to go, that I was going to see her. But as much as I wanted to move, as much as I wanted to march into Marinette's hospital room and tell her how sorry I was, I was too nervous. Why was I acting like this? What was it about seeing her and talking to her that made me feel so uneasy? This is Marinette for God's sake. But what if she doesn't want to see me? What if my opinion doesn't matter to her? What if she doesn't want to hear my apology? That would ruin me. Without any doubt, it would ruin me.

That's when I hear it. The clicking of heels on the tile floor. Click, clack. Click, clack. Slowly getting louder as they approach the waiting room. I can't help but stare at the door, the footsteps suddenly sound like a stampede. Whoever it is, it can't be a nurse, the nurses don't wear high heels. Her figure appears in the doorway, her long blonde hair tied into a ponytail at the top of her head. I have to blink a few times when I see her, I couldn't be sure if she was really here. She looks at me with a frown before approaching me, tightly gripping the strap of her handbag. Everyone is watching her, mostly in shock, and she knows it. What is she doing here? Is she here because she wants to appear sympathetic? Or does she sincerely care about Marinette? She never has in the past.

"Hi Adrikins." She doesn't call me that with the same cheerful, peppy, tone that she usually does. Instead, the nickname sounds almost sad.

"Hi Chloe." I reply.

She puts her bag down and sits in the seat next to me. I want to ask her why she's here. I want to know what she's doing. I open my mouth to speak, but in true Chloe fashion, she doesn't let me.

"How is she?" Chloe whispers, as though she doesn't want anyone to hear.

Her question genuinely shocks me. Chloe only cares about Chloe, that is how she's always been. I can see Alya not so subtly glaring at Chloe from the other side of the room, and I know that Chloe sees it too.

"She's out of surgery." I reply flatly.

"Can I see her?" She inquires.

"You want to see her?" Her request is definitely surprising. Especially considering the fact that she accused Mari of being a gold digger when we first started dating.

"Look, I know that I have not exactly been her favourite person," She sounds condescending, even when she isn't trying to. "But I want to see her, just to- to-"

She takes a breath.

"I want to apologize to her, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" I can hear the grief in her voice, I can see her holding back tears.

"She's down the hall." I tell her what room Marinette is in, and Chloe gives me somewhat of a smile before standing up.

At first, I think that she is going to leave, but then she turns back. She looks me dead in the eyes.

"You haven't seen her yet, have you?" She inquires.

My eyes widen slightly "What gave it away?"

"You're practically shaking," She replies. "I haven't seen you shake this much since they told you your mom left."

She's got me there.

"I don't know what I'm suppose to say." I tell her.

"Wrong." She responds. "You know exactly what to say. But you're not saying it because you're terrified that whatever you say will be the wrong thing."

I stare down at my lap, because I know that the second I look at her I'm going to tear up. It's hard to admit something true. It's hard to come to terms with the fact that you're afraid. I feel Chloe's hand on my shoulder, a gesture that she doesn't often give with sympathy or comfort.

"Don't be afraid to see her Adrien," She whispers. "Don't be afraid to tell her the truth."  
Then she lets go and steps away from me.

"Now I'm going to go see Marinette," She tells me. "But you're going in right after me, understand?"

I give her a small nod and she smiles.

No matter what, Chloe knows how to get exactly what she wants.

* * *

 **I wasn't going to add in a conversation between Chloe and Adrien. But I want to make her sympathetic before I make you hate her again in the next chapter.**

 **I didn't put any of the other kids in Mari's class in my last fanfiction, so here is ALL THE KIDS! I was going to have them come in one at a time, but the chapter got too long. Also Julerose because they are sweet cinnamon rolls! :)**

 **Tomorrow is my city's comic convention and I'm going dressed as Ladybug, my brother is coming too and he's gonna be the Eleventh Doctor. So if you are going to a convention tomorrow and you see a Ladybug with the Doctor, that might just be me.**

 **Until next time, keep on reading!**


	14. Say You Will

Say You Will

 **I've been so tired since school started. Can I just sleep through the next ten or so months? This chapter is really short, but It's mostly fluff. Enjoy chapter fourteen! I don't own Miraculous, I just enjoy writing stories about it.**

* * *

-Marinette-

Alya is waiting for me in the bakery on Monday morning. She stands there like a mother impatiently waiting for her child, her arms crossed across her chest, tapping her foot anxiously on the tile floor. I try to pass her and grab a croissant for my breakfast, but she immediately grabs my arm.

"Oh no," She says, the biggest grin across her face. "You do not get to ignore me all weekend and then snub me when I need deets about your date."

I didn't mean to ignore her all weekend. My parents needed help with baking and catering. It's wedding season, meaning that my parents have a million and one orders to fill out. It's completely understandable. I just didn't have time to tell Alya about my date. My fantastic, amazing, wonderful date. I still can't believe that I actually went on a date with Adrien Agreste, I've been waiting to date him for years and now it's finally happened. It was everything that I could have possibly dreamed of and so much more. It was perfect, everything was absolutely perfect. I'm proud of myself. I went on a date with a guy that I've been in love with for years and I didn't instantly combust, or make a complete fool of myself.

"Sorry for not immediately texting you every single detail." I apologize. "I was exhausted by the time I got home, and then I had to wake up early to help my parents cater this wedding."

"It's fine," Alya chuckled, grabbing a muffin and leaving just enough change on the counter to pay for it. I throw my backpack on over my shoulder as we make our way out of the bakery, the doorbell chiming behind us. "Tell me everything."

We stand on the corner and wait for the light to change. Alya takes a bite of her muffin, while I recall the events of the night. I tell her about dinner, how he took me to the most extravagant restaurant imaginable, and that he paid for my meal. Alya yelled at me when I told her that I didn't want Adrien to pay for my meal. Something along the lines of 'your boyfriend is loaded, let him spoil you,' or something like that.

"So then we went for ice cream," I continued. "And then he-"

I blush, the widest grin bursts on my face as I recall the memory of our kiss. How he looked at me with those sparkling green eyes that seem to capture the heart of any girl who looks into them. How he moved closer to me, filling my stomach with butterflies. How his lips were cold yet soft, how he tasted like ice cream. Alya immediately stop in her tracks when she notices the expression on my my face.

"Mari, did the thing that I have been waiting for finally happen?" She squeaks, she's practically shaking in excitement.

I can't find my voice, so I nod. Alya screams and hugs me so tightly that I can hardly breathe.

"Was it good?" She whispers.

"It was," How do I even find the words to describe what kissing Adrien was like? Flawless, perfect, unbelievable. "Everything that I could have ever wanted."

Alya squeals again as we make our way up the front steps of the school, a few bystanders look our way, giving us odd looks. If this is how Alya reacts to Adrien and I kissing, then I can only imagine how she's going to react when she finds out that Chat Noir and Ladybug have kissed. I'm not ready to tell her yet. I'm not ready to tell anyone yet. Not even my parents. Will they be suspicious if Ladybug vanishes around the same time I leave for London? Maybe I should tell them, I think that I at least owe them that. They aren't in danger now that Hawkmoth has been taken care of. I'll wait and see, if I get accepted at Central Saint Martins, then I will tell them the truth.

Adrien is already sitting at his desk when Alya and I enter the classroom. He smiles and stands from his seat when we make eye contact.

"Morning." He whispers, grabbing my hand as I pass him and placing a gentle kiss to the back of my hand.

"Morning to you too." I reply with a smile.

I can hear Chloe fuming from across the aisle. Don't let her get to you, Marinette. I sit down in my seat. There are only a few months left of school, then you're free of her. Do not let this girl get on your nerves like you did when you were younger. Be an adult now.

"Gold digger." I hear the word as clear as day from across the aisle. Everyone in the class hears it.

Despite my better judgement, I look at her. She is sending me the exact same murderous glare that she always wears when I so much as look at Adrien. She called me a gold digger. She accused me of going out with Adrien for his money. In front of the entire class. Breathe Marinette, breathe. You're almost done with this girl. Chloe can act like a bitchy child all she wants, I won't let it get to me.

"Did you at least pay him back you slut?" I hear her voice again, louder this time.

Everyone in the class is looking at Chloe now, most of them giving her rude glares or rolling their eyes at her. Breathe Mari. Don't even look at her. Don't give her that satisfaction.

"Trashy whore." She mumbles.

"Can she shut up?" I hear Adrien mutter with a roll of his eyes.

I'm clutching my pencil so hard that my knuckles turn white, and Chloe can clearly see that I'm annoyed. She's waiting for me to explode, so that she can act like the innocent little victim and get everything her way.

"What's wrong Marinette?" The blonde giggles. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

I take a deep breath, I still don't want to give her the satisfaction of a glance.

"No," I reply without looking up from the blank piece of paper in front of me. "I don't listen to the words of those who don't matter."

Chloe's eyes widen and she looks clearly taken aback.

"Take a chill pill, it was a joke." Chloe fakes a calm demeanor, even though she knows she's going to lose this battle.

"You can't joke like that," Alya seethes. "Not cool."

I appreciate my friends taking my side, Chloe isn't worth all of this.

"Thank you," I give my friend a gracious smile before turning to the blonde in front of me. "Chloe, grow the fuck up, we're graduating in a few months and you act like you're still fourteen years old. If you think that people in the real world are going to put up with your attitude, then you are in for a very rude awakening."

She doesn't say anything. She simply gives me another hard glare before turning her attention to her textbook. Her ponytail falls ungracefully in front of her face. Sabrina tries to reach out to her, but Chloe pushes the orange haired girl away.

"You okay?" Adrien whispers, touching my arm lightly.

"I'm fine." I reply with a smile.

That's when the late bell rings and our teacher finally makes an appearance. I'll just focus on the lesson. Just pay attention to what the teacher is saying, forget about Chloe, she isn't worth all of this trouble. The nerve of that girl, calling me names and accusing me of being a gold digger. It's completely pathetic when you think about it. This is the girl who has been relentlessly tormenting me for years, she has caused more akuma's than I can count. She isn't going to last a day in the real world. While it's hard to be sympathetic towards her, it's sad to think that she might never truly be happy.

Halfway through class a note lands on my desk, folded into a neat square with my name written in swirly letters. Curiously, I unfold the note, careful not to call attention to myself as I do. I smile as I read the words on the paper, trying my best not to grin like a giddy school girl. I look at him, his head is turned slightly, I know that he can see me in his peripheral vision. I give him a small nod, he smiles. I feel Alya glance at me out of the corner of her eye, confused and intrigued, like she's waiting for me to tell her my secrets. But I can't. Because the two simple words on that piece of paper are something for just Adrien and I.

"Patrol Tonight?"

* * *

-Adrien-

And of course by patrol I meant "wanna sneak out late at night and make out on a random rooftop?"

It was nine at night when I landed on the rooftop where we usually meet for patrol. It was a cool night, but the sky was clear, a thousand stars covered the indigo night sky. The moon was a tiny sliver of silver hovering over the world. Marinette was already there, dressed in her red and black suit, she sat on the edge with her feet dangling off of the side of the building. The lights from the streets below leave the faintest glow on her face, her smile is the first thing I notice. The small smile on her soft lips, which are smeared with an enticing pink lip gloss. She notices me out of the corner of her eye and stands to greet me. She saunters over to me, her hips sway in a way that is unintentionally seductive. She's so much shorter than I am, only reaching to my chest. I wonder how tall she is exactly.

"Hey." She greets me with a smile so welcoming that it makes me feel completely at home.

"Nice night." I tell her, my arms finding their way around her waist.

"Indeed." She replies, her hands ghost their way up my chest before stopping at my shoulders.

Our foreheads are touching as we relax into a comfortable embrace. She closes her eyes first, and I can't help but stare at her, she looks so relaxed and tranquil. She is so unbelievably beautiful. The familiar warmth that I feel whenever I'm with her returns, coursing through my body like I've been set on fire. She's mine. Everything that I have ever wanted is right here in my arms. And she's all mine. She still smells like the bakery, like cupcakes and fresh bread, and every other sweet thing that anyone could crave. I pull her even closer, our chests are connected now, I can feel her heart beating in time with mine. Our noses touch, I count the freckles on her cheeks, and admire the dimples that appear on her face when she smiles. The heat between us is overwhelming. Part of me wants nothing more than to give into the temptation, to kiss her until neither of us can breathe, but at the same time, I don't want this moment to end. She stands on her toes, her face aligned with mine. She smirks at me, devious and impatient, then crashes her lips onto mine. The kisses start off slow and sensual, quickly becoming fast and heated. This kiss is somehow different than the two kisses that we've previously shared. This one isn't unexpected or awkward. It's not one person leaning in, and it's not some awkward clanking of teeth either. This kiss is something different, something special. My hands absentmindedly travel slowly down her lower back. I don't realize how low until she lets out a small gasp and moves away.

"Sorry." I quickly apologize, taking my hands off of her. "That was an accident, sorry if I went too fast."

"No, no, it's fine." She reassures me. "You just surprised me, that's all."

She steps closer again, but I stay frozen. I can't move my hands. What if I touch her in the wrong place again? Or she doesn't appreciate my advances? What can I touch and what can I not touch? Should we set up boundaries? Yes, that's a good idea. My train of thought leaves me when she puts her hands in mine. She's smiling again, trying to let me know that I didn't mess everything up. She guides my hands back to her lower waist, just above the place I accidentally groped. Her arms return to their place around my neck, they stay there comfortably for a moment before she stands on her toes again. She rests her chin on my shoulder, her lips just a few centimeters from my ear.

"Don't worry about it." She whispers. "I'll let you know if I feel uncomfortable."

Her hot breath on my skin sends shivers down my spine. She slowly moves away, placing a small kiss on my cheek as she does. I feel my heart rapidly increasing in my chest, my breathing becomes shallow. God, this girl drives me wild. My mind goes blank when she kisses me again, her lips feel like a mint flavoured heaven on mine. Hesitantly, her tongue begins to explore my mouth. I'm not entirely sure how I imagined french kissing, but it was certainly wetter than this. Am I doing this right? Is it suppose to be wet? Does she feel good? She's not pulling away, that's a good sign. I hope that she likes this, because damn, I think that this might just become my new favourite thing. I like being here like this, feeling her in my arms. Everything feels all warm, and safe, and special. I forget about everything when I'm with her. I forget about Ladybug and Chat Noir, I forget about my father and my busy schedule, I forget about the future. I forget that she's going to leave. I don't realize that I've stopped kissing her back until it's already too late.

"Is everything alright?" She asks as she pulls away.

There is so much concern in her eyes, she wants to help me. She wants to listen to me. I don't want to lie to her. But I don't know what else I'm suppose to do. I can't whine like a needy little lovesick puppy and tell her not to leave me. No, I won't do that to her. So I force myself to smile and lean in again, but she puts a finger to my lips before I can kiss her again.

"Is it something with your father?" She is genuinely worried about me. My heart swells with happiness to know that she cares so much.

"Don't worry about it." I whispered, holding her as tightly as I possibly can without hurting her.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it." She tells me. "But don't bottle things up, please. I don't want you to overwork yourself."

Too late.

I smile at her again. A real smile this time. She cares. She loves me for who I am. She cares about me, about what I want, she wants to know how I'm feeling, and she wants me to be happy.

"Actually," I whisper, making sure that the moment is as intimate as it possibly can be. "There is something that I want to ask you."  
"What is it?" I can practically hear her smile.

"I know that we've only been on one date, and we may be rushing things," I continue. "But will you be my girlfriend?"

She lets out a tiny giggle, one that sounds like the ringing of bells, or songbirds on a spring morning. It's the most amazing sound in the entire world.

"I thought I was already your girlfriend." She replies, flashing me that beautiful smile that never fails to stop my breath.

I kiss her on the forehead, then on her cheek, and then slowly place kisses along her jawline until I finally reach her lips again. I want her. I want to be with her every moment of every day. I want her in my arms, for the rest of my life. And if she leaves I won't have that.

In my arms is everything that I have ever wanted.

And everything I don't deserve.

* * *

 **I might add more intense moments in their relationship? In If I Stay the main characters end up losing their virginity and I haven't decided if I want to write that in? I mean, they're old enough, and as long as it's safe it should be fine. I do want to stay true to the book, so...**

 **Last week was my city's fan convention and I had so much fun. I dressed up as Ladybug, and people were coming up to me and asking for pictures, it felt like I was famous. I also found two Chat Noirs, but only one of them made puns. I found one other Ladybug that day and a Lady Wifi. My brother, who dressed as the Eleventh Doctor, took a picture with a girl dressed as Eleven from Stranger Things, so they were Eleven and Eleven! We had the best day ever.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	15. Say You Want Me

Say You Want Me

 **I feel kind of out of it today, I hope that I'm not getting sick. Anyways, here's chapter 15! Chloe is going to visit Marinette in the hospital. This is gonna be an interesting conversation. I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

"Chloe?" I can't help but stare at her, completely frozen in place.

What is she doing here? Why is she visiting me? She's been nothing but cruel to me ever since we were children. I watch her with wide eyes as she stands in the doorway, awkwardly shifting her weight between her feet. She doesn't move for a few minutes, she only stares at my unconscious body lying immobile on the hospital bed. For a moment, I wonder whether or not she is going to say anything at all. I wish that she would say something. Crazy, I know. Chloe is probably the only person in the world that I would pay to shut up, but right now I just want to know what is going on in her head. She finally takes a step into the room, her heels loudly clacking on the tile floor as she walks. She looks down at me, then at the heart monitor slowly beeping in steady rhythm. She takes a long, deep, breath and places her purse on the bedside table next to the vase of lilies. I notice her biting the inside of her cheek, like she's nervous or afraid. I can't tell if it's because she doesn't know what to say, or if she is scared that something will happen to me.

"Hi Marinette." She finally says, her voice is monotonous but I catch the faintest hint of sympathy in her tone.

"Hi." I reply, even though I know that she can't see or hear me.

"This is ridiculous." She mutters under her breath. "Well, if those nurses at the front desk were right, and you actually can hear me, then you'd better listen up."

Just say goodbye to me and get it over with. You're probably the only person who will. Nobody else respects the fact that I might not want to wake up. I don't want to go on without my parents.

"I know that I have never been a good person," She tells me, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear. "Not to you, not to anyone."

I can agree with that.

"I understand if you don't want to listen to me," She continues. "But please, if you take one stupid piece of advice that comes out of my mouth please take this one."

She stands at the side of my bed, her perfectly manicured fingernails lightly grazing the cotton blanket. She bites her lip and takes another deep breath, but this time a choked sob escapes her lips. The noise is surprising, especially coming from Chloe. I had only ever seen Chloe fake crying in order to get her way, or to get drama, or attention. But nobody is around, there is no way she's crying for drama, or sympathy, or attention.

"Don't die." The words come out between sobs and choked breaths.

Don't die. Of all the people in the world, it's Chloe who is telling me to stay. To fight. But why? If I were gone, then she'd have Adrien all to herself, which was what she wanted. If I were gone, she'd be class president. If were gone, nobody would stand up to her. And yet, here she is. The girl who has been nothing but cruel to me for half of my life, crying over my frail body. My heart suddenly feels like it weighs a ton as it beats quickly in my chest.

"Please wake up," She's begging at this point. "There are so many people in that waiting room who love you and care about you. I know I boast a lot about how popular I am, but let's face reality. If I were in your position, would they care?"

Of course they'd care. Nobody wants to see anyone in the state that I'm in, not even Chloe. I want to tell her that she's wrong, but no words come out of my mouth. My throat feels as though it's closing up, like someone's slowly squeezing the life out of me. It's for the best, even if I could speak, my words would fall on deaf ears.

"Please wake up," She sobs, quickly wiping the tears that fall down her face. "You're only seventeen."

She takes a tissue out of her purse and dries her eyes, leaving behind smudged eyeliner. The new dark circles around her eyes make her look like a raccoon. Even with the raccoon eyes, she's still so pretty.

"You're going to do so many amazing things," She goes on. "You're going to go to a good university, and have a good job. You're going to have such a happy life. Not everyone has that luxury."

Oh, Chloe. I never thought I'd see the day when I would feel bad for her. But I do.

"When my mom died, I didn't know what to do," She confesses, looking down at her lap. She squeezes her eyes shut, yet a loose tear still escapes. "I was angry for a long time, but I still wanted to grow up to be someone that she would be proud of. I demanded excellence, and basically robbed anyone else of their chance at happiness."

I feel moisture on my cheek. When had I started crying?

"I don't think that she would have wanted this for me," Her voice trembled as she spoke. "This person who takes advantage of others to get their way. You know I didn't even get into one college, right?"

She looks up at the ceiling, her face completely red, her eyes inflamed.

"That's right," She cries. "The daughter of the mayor of Paris couldn't even get into one stupid college. And it's not like I'm going to have any friends after this year now that Sabrina is going to school in Spain."

She forces herself to breathe, to calm down. She forces the tears to stop falling from her blue eyes. She doesn't say anything for a while, and I wonder if she is going to leave.

"Wake up." She demands. "You have all these people here who love you. Please don't make them bury you. Don't make Adrien bring flowers to your grave every day, because you and I both know that is exactly what he'll do."

She wipes any remaining tears away and takes one last deep breath.

"And Marinette," She whispers. "I know that I always said that Adrien was mine, but we both know there was never any competition. It was always you. You always made him so much happier than I ever could. Seeing that smile on his face, it's all I've ever wanted for him."

She hesitantly reaches out and touches my arm, and even though I can't feel her touch, I feel her emotion. I can feel every ounce of grief and sympathy and anxiety, every drop of doubt and sadness. I feel everything.

"I need you to continue to make him happy," She tells me confidently, the tiniest hint of a smile spreads across her face. "Grow up with him, grow old with him."

Then she picks up her purse from where she had left it on the bedside table.

"If you can't wake up," She whispers sadly. "Then at least wait for him to talk to you."

Wait for him to talk to you. The words echo in my ears. Wait for Adrien to say goodbye. It was only fair, everyone else has. I feel a familiar pang in my heart when I think about him. That unmistakable pang of love that I've always felt towards him. I wonder what he'll say to me, now that everything has changed between us. I will wait for him, for the boy who holds my heart.

Chloe turns to leave, her heels retreating out of the hospital room. And then they stop.

"I am so sorry for everything that I have ever done to you." She adds as an afterthought. "I hope that I can tell you in person."

And then she's gone.

* * *

-Adrien-

"Do you want anything from the cafeteria?" Alya asks me as she fishes her wallet out of her purse.

It's past dinner time already, and I haven't eaten since breakfast. But while the empty void in my stomach is telling me that I'm starving, I fear that I won't be able to keep any kind of food down. I feel nauseous, it's like there are fish swimming in my stomach. I guess heartbreak is like that, an eternal emptiness that can never be filled.

"No thank you." I tell her, forcing a polite smile.

A concerned look crosses her face for a moment, and I know that she wants to object. Nino puts his arm around the girl, leading her out of the room. Alya will probably buy me something to eat regardless of what I told her. I relax into my chair and close my eyes for a moment. It's been such a long day, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. She invades my thoughts every time I close my eyes. Images of her flash in front of my eyes, memories of the two of us together, back when everything was good. Sometimes the images that I see are unpleasant. Memories of our fight, and the awkward days that followed. Then I imagine her with her family, in their car, how they must have felt just seconds before everything changed. Was she in pain? Did she feel any of it? She didn't deserve the pain that she received. She deserved a life, a future, happiness. Happiness in a place of her choosing. She deserved everything that she wanted. Not this. Never this.

"Adrien?" I hear a voice call.

I looked up, expecting to see Alya with a sandwich or a muffin in hand. But it's not, it's Nathalie. She's standing in the doorway, wearing the same blank expression that she always does. I can't tell if she's disappointed in me, or if she is simply annoyed. She sits down in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to mine, and I can't bring myself to look her in the eyes.

"Did father send you to take me home?" I asked.

"He did." She replied, an exasperated sigh escaping mouth.

"How angry is he?" I knew that my father would be nothing less than furious. It's not like he would understand.

"He is livid." She tells me. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

"Don't bother telling me to apologize," I try not to make the words sound harsh, but they do. "I'm not going to."

I can see her nod out of the corner of my eye.

"I understand," She empathized. "Your father might not, but I do."

My father doesn't know anything. I do everything for that man without question and I never ask for anything in return. I never get anything in return, not even a simple thank you. I never complained, not once. I can only imagine the conversation that I'll have with father once I get home, if I go home. He'll tell me how irresponsible and selfish I am, how important it is that I listen to him. He'll act like I have never gone out of my way to make his life easier. He only ever acknowledges my failures, he has never once commented on my successes. I am definitely going to get an earful from him. But I don't care. He doesn't understand, and he never will. This was Marinette. This was the girl that I was so desperately in love with. I wanted nothing more than to apologize to her. To beg for her forgiveness, to prove to her how much I loved her. She was worth it. She was worth everything.

"I needed to be here," I tell her. "I need to stay here, I need to be near her."

"I know." I think that this is the most sympathetic that I have ever heard her voice. "I told your father that, but he was still angry."

Figures. He has no respect for me or my wishes. He thinks only of himself and never of anyone else. He hadn't even cared the night I told him that I was going on a date. He didn't even acknowledged that I had a girlfriend. He definitely didn't say anything when I was brokenhearted after Marinette and I fought. He didn't notice, nor care.

"I do understand, even if you don't believe me," She explains. She's silent for a moment, but I can tell by her rigid features that she wants to say something. "Did I ever tell you about my daughter?"

Daughter? I never knew that Nathalie had a daughter. I didn't even know that she was married.

"She would have been around your age by now," Nathalie continues, I notice her eyes getting misty behind her glasses. "Her name was Ella."

"What happened to her?" I inquired.

"She was born with cancer, and we couldn't afford to treat her." Nathalie explained, twisting the silver bracelet around her wrist. "She only lived for two months, and that on it's own was a miracle."

"That's awful." I consoled. "Nobody should have to lose their child like that, I'm sorry."

"We knew that we wouldn't have much time with her," Nathalie explained. "So my husband and I decided to enjoy every moment we got with her, we celebrated her birthday with her every day, we celebrated sixty-one birthdays with our little girl."

A bittersweet smile crossed her face, she lifts her glasses and wipes her eyes.

"It was the time we spent with her that made her life precious." She concludes.

"Do you miss her?" I question.

"Every day." She replies.

Maybe Nathalie had the right idea. Maybe it didn't matter how much time you had with a person, as long as you made the time worth spending. As long as that time meant something, it was always enough. I just wish that I hadn't wasted so much time fighting with Marinette when I could have been holding her, telling her how much she meant to me, telling her how much I loved her. I am never going to waste another second that I have with her. I am going to love her like no guy has ever loved a girl.

"Have you seen her yet?" Nathalie breaks the silence between us.

"I will once Chloe comes back." I tell her.

Nathalie raises an eyebrow quizzically, knowing the type of person that Chloe was. But she shrugged it off.

Alya and Nino return a few minutes later with sandwiches wrapped in tin foil. And, as expected, Alya shoves an apple into my hands. I don't eat, I don't want to eat. I want to see Marinette. I want to talk to her. I want to tell her that I love her. I watch the clock on the wall as time moves forward so agonizingly slowly. What is taking Chloe so long? I wait for a few minutes that feel almost feel like centuries, legs jittering anxiously as I sat in that stupid plastic chair. I've been here for hours by now, and I've done nothing but sit in this plastic chair. So I stand up, I pace around the room awkwardly. Nino and Alya watch me as they eat their sandwiches in silence, I know that they're worried about me. I love them for being so considerate, but they don't need to worry about me. Five minutes pass before I hear the unmistakeable sound of Chloe's heels clicking down the hallway. Her face is red and her eyes are puffy when I see her. I hardly ever see her cry, genuinely that is. I've seen Chloe cry to get her way. But I hardly ever see her really crying. She sends a small smile my way when she sees me.

"Go see her," Chloe urged. "Don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?"

My Lady. I'm going to see her. My Lady. Marinette, my Ladybug. I take a deep breath and nod my head. But just as I am about to step out of the waiting room, the nurse rushes in.

"Visiting hours are over." He announces. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask everyone to vacate the area."

"What?" I, along with a few other voices, exclaim.

"No, no, no, no." I hear Chloe pipe up first. "You have to let this boy see that girl and you better let him see her now."

The nurse shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't-"

"Can't what?" Alya chimes in. "You can't give this boy five minutes with her? It's barely eight."

I have never seen these two work together before. It is simultaneously the most fascinating and terrifying thing that I have ever seen in my life.

"Unless he is immediate family I can't make any exceptions." The nurse tells them apologetically.

"Do you know who I am?" Chloe screams. "My father is Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris. He donates a lot of money to this hospital and if you want him to continue funding your job you will extend our visiting hours."

I have never been a bigger fan of Chloe's constant whining ever in my life.

"I don't take orders from you," The nurse practically seethes, obviously getting annoyed. "Now he can come back tomorrow-"

"He might not have tomorrow!" Chloe interrupts, her words ripping through the room.

There is silence after that. The waiting room is quiet, the air went still. Chloe said what everyone was thinking, but didn't have the guts to say. Marinette wasn't promised a tomorrow. She wasn't even promised an hour. Even if she was stable, her condition could change in an instant. Marinette could die. Which is why everyone came to see her when they did, because they didn't know how long she had. But even though I knew there was no guarantee, a part of me somehow knew, she wasn't going anywhere. She was going to keep breathing, she was going to wait for me. I knew that she was. She wasn't going anywhere.

"It's okay." I finally told them. "I'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Adrien, you don't know-" Alya started, her voice cracking slightly.

"But I do." I replied.

Alya and Chloe stared at me, identical baffled looks crossing their faces.

"How?" Alya questioned. "How can you possibly know that?"

I couldn't quite explain it. It was a feeling, something deep down that was reassuring me that everything was going to be alright. No, it was a voice. It was gently whispering in my ear. It was Marinette's voice. Her soft, beautiful, voice. I could afford to wait until morning. I knew that.

"I don't know," I finally tell them. "I just do."

* * *

 **I hope that you enjoyed chapter 15.**

 **I actually do like Chloe sometimes, when she isn't being a huge bitch. I hope that she does get some development in season two. I do think that she does genuinely care for Adrien, she just doesn't know how to express her feelings.**

 **Until next time, keep on reading!**


	16. Say You Need Me

Say You Need Me

 **Wow, the last chapter got sixteen reviews. Thanks for the support guys! As requested, here is the next chapter, I hope that you guys like it.**

* * *

-Marinette-

"Marinette!" I hear my mother call my name.

I open the trapdoor and stick my head out. My mother is standing at the bottom of the stairs, still in her nightdress and slippers, holding an envelope in her hand. An envelope with a crest that I recognize a mile away. Could it be? It's been a few weeks, but is this a little too fast? I didn't think that Central Saint Martins would be requesting interviews so soon. Is that a good sign or a bad sign? Did they like my portfolio so much that they want to meet me right away? Or is my portfolio weak and they want to immediately reject me? My entire body shakes as I throw open the trapdoor and race down the stairs. My mind is racing, and all I can think about is whether or not I got a yes or a no.

"It's from London." She tells me, her voice is all giddy, as though she already knows what the letter says.

She hands me the envelope, which suddenly feels so heavy in my hands. How can something that weighs less than a pound feel like a thousand tons? I can't stop my hands from shaking as I stare down at the envelope in my hands. This tiny little thing could hold the key to my entire future. My name is written on the front in elegant letters that seem so oddly intimidating. I run my fingers over the crest and suddenly I've forgotten how to breathe.

"Tom!" My mother yells. "She got a letter!"  
My father rushes out of his bedroom, still in his pajamas, half of his face is still covered in shaving cream. He smiles at me, one of those proud dad smiles that stretches from ear to ear. He puts an arm around my mother, who is beaming as though I've already been accepted. This makes me feel all the more anxious, what if I got rejected? All of these proud smiles will immediately disappear. I look down at the envelope, take a deep breath. I hesitantly start to tear the envelope open, looking up at my parents occasionally for emotional support. I take a deep breath in and then I breathe out. My heart is pounding rapidly in my chest, I can practically hear the sound drumming and echoing in my ears. It's just a school. It doesn't matter what the letter says. It's just a school. A perfect, wonderful school that I want to go to really badly. I force the letter out of the envelope. This is it. The moment of truth. I take one last breath, my dad gives me a supportive thumbs up, and I can't help but smile. They will be proud of me, no matter what. I carefully unfold the parchment, as though it's precious china that might crack under pressure.

I don't think I got through two words of that letter without letting out a high-pitched, triumphant, scream. I throw my arms around both of my parents, I don't think that I've ever been hugged tighter in my entire life. I have to read the first sentence of the letter again, just to make sure that it's real. It is.

Congratulations!

That's the first word of the letter. I read it over and over again. And each time I have a mini freak out. I want to jump, and scream, and shout with excitement. My heart's still racing, my breath is still shallow, I feel tears starting to pool and swim in my eyes. I feel so overwhelmed with emotion and so unbelievably happy. I'm going to London! Well, I'm going to London to show the admissions council my portfolio, but that means I have a shot at attending the most prestigious fashion school in the world. I have a real shot. I'm going to London. This is real. The letter gives me all of the information that I need.

"They want to meet with me in two weeks," I say, clutching the letter tightly in my hands. I can't stop my body from shaking, both with nerves and excitement. "I'm going to London!"

My parents give me another long hug, their proud smiles never faltering.

"We're so happy for you." Papa tells me, kissing me on the cheek. "This calls for celebration."

"Yes," Mama agrees. "And cake."

I can't help but smile at my parent's enthusiasm, I couldn't have asked for a better family. I'm very lucky, a lot of parents might not support their child leaving the country for school. I'm glad that they're always going to be there for me, whenever I need them. Everything about the future is unknown and completely terrifying. What if my interview doesn't go well? What if I don't get in? What happens then? Where do I go? What do I do? I know that the chances that I get in are slim, but they were there, and I was going to fight for them. I'm so deep in thought that I almost don't notice the time on the kitchen clock. One of the perks of living across the street from your school is that you can leave five minutes before class starts and you still won't be late. I grab my knapsack and start to head out the door.

"Cake will have to wait until after school." I tell them, hugging them both tightly one last time.

"We'll be waiting," Papa replies, patting me on the shoulder. "Bring your friends, we'll all celebrate together."

I wonder what they'll do if I actually get into this school. Probably rent a banquet hall and invite all of Paris to take part in the celebration. It hits me again as I'm crossing the street. I'm going to London. If my meeting goes well, then I might be staying in London for the next four years. I might be the next brilliant designer that comes out of this school. Who knows? One day I might be bigger than Stella McCartney.

"Mari!" I hear a familiar voice call me.

It's Adrien, stepping out of his car. I'm so ecstatic about getting my letter, about the possibility of going to school and living in London, that I practically jump him. I wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug, he stumbles back for a moment before regaining his balance and hugging me back. I haven't stopped smiling since I opened that letter, my cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so much. I'm practically shaking with excitement and happiness, and I want to share my good news with him. We don't let got for a few minutes, and when we do Adrien gives me a curious grin.

"Not that I'm complaining," He says with a small chuckle. "But what's this for?"

I feel like a firecracker that is about to explode. I feel so giddy, I want to laugh and cry and smile until my muscles are sore.

"I got a letter." I manage to squeak.

Adrien's eyes widen in shock, then he pulls me in for another long hug.

"I'm assuming by this reaction that it's good news?" He phrases it more as a statement than a question, yet I still nod my head quickly as he holds me tighter.

We're standing in front of the school, on the sidewalk, just standing there and hugging like two weirdos. But we don't care. We're happy. He kisses the top of my head, sending a wave of shivers down my spine. He doesn't let go of me, and I don't want him to. Not when the voices of students outside slowly disappear, not when we hear footsteps marching towards us. Not when we hear somebody behind us clearing their throat in an obvious attempt to get our attention.

"Guys." The voice interrupts our moment. "Mari? Adrien?"

We finally let go. Alya and Nino are standing in front of us, Alya has her arms crossed like an annoyed mother. She looks between the two of us before pointing to the time on her wristwatch.

"Class starts in two minutes." She tells me in a jokingly stern tone.

I let go of Adrien, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess what." I tell her giddily.

"What?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to London." I squeal. The more I say it, the more exciting and real it becomes.

"Really?" Alya's face breaks out into a large grin.

"Group hug!" Nino declares, squishing Alya and I together and then tugging Adrien in by the hem of his shirt.

I feel an overwhelming wave of love for all three of them as I'm suffocated at the center of a human sandwich. I feel tears beginning to pool in my eyes when I realize that I might not have this for much longer. If I go to London then I won't be able to see my friends every day. Alya and Nino are staying here after lycee, and Adrien will most likely be staying as well. Our group won't be fully together anymore. We're all going to move on, go to different schools, meet new friends. Just the thought completely terrifies me. I wipe the tears from my eyes as my three friends release me. They're all smiling at me, Alya removes her glasses and wipes a tear from her own eye.

"I can't believe you're leaving me." Alya jokingly whines, putting her arm around me as we start walking to class.

"It's just an interview," I remind her. "I still need to get accepted."

"Oh, you'll get accepted." Nino tells me confidently. "No doubt."

"Well, you're all invited over after school for celebratory cake." I announce.

"Cake!" Nino cheers.

The four of us laugh together, our cheerful noise echoes is the empty hallway, only drowned out by the late bell blaring in our ears.

* * *

-Adrien-

Marinette, Nino, Alya, and I head over to the bakery the moment the final bell rings. It isn't a very warm day outside, the sun is hiding behind the clouds, and the wind whips at our faces. I have my arm around Marinette, she's zipped up her jacket and yet she's still shivering in the cold. I hold her closer to me, trying to pass on some of my body heat, her teeth stop chattering, but she is still shaking. Alya and Nino don't seem to feel the frigid weather. They walk just in front of us, Alya yaps on about her blog while Nino has his eyes glued to something on his phone. He's probably checking his email for the umpteenth time today, he's waiting to hear back from film school. He was worried that he didn't have the grades to get in, or that it would be too expensive for him to afford. I hear Nino sigh loudly as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

Sabine and Tom are waiting in the bakery when we arrive, still in their flour-covered aprons. They smile proudly at the four of us as though we are all their children. No parent has ever smiled at me like that before. Nobody has ever made me a cake because they were proud of me, because they were happy that I was succeeding. It feels odd, but in a good way. Marinette immediately runs towards the both of them and hugs them. Her parents shower her with love and encouragement, the scene makes me smile, but it also makes my heart feel like a stone in my chest. The perfect family, something that I have never been a part of, and I probably never will be.

"We're so proud of you, sweetheart." Sabine tells her daughter, kissing the top of Marinette's raven tresses.

I feel another pang in my chest. I wonder if Mari knows how lucky she is to have this, to have these parents who love her unconditionally and will be proud of her no matter what. Even if Marinette doesn't get into this school, although I have no doubts that she won't, everyone in her life will be proud of her just because she tried.

Tom lets go of his wife and daughter for a moment to retrieve the cake from the kitchen. It's a round cake, just big enough to feed the six of us. The icing is white with yellow sugar flowers for decoration, the word 'Congratulations' is written along the top. Alya takes a picture of the cake, then one of Marinette and her parents. Tom and Sabine take a picture of the four of us before we cut the cake, and pour celebratory glasses of champagne.

"You get one each, no more." Tom warns us as he hands the four of us our glasses. "I don't want any angry parents calling me."  
"This one's father would probably sue if he came home tipsy." Nino remarked semi-jokingly, nudging me in the arm as he did.

Even though I am legally allowed to drink, my father would never let me have more than a sip of wine at a gala. Who could blame him? Even if I only had one glass of something, some stupid tabloid would turn it around and make it look like I had some kind of problem. Ah, the joys of being famous.

Still, everyone laughs at Nino's comment, so I laugh with them. I have to, I can't let on that something might be wrong. That I might be unhappy. It's what I'm best at, considering that I do it all of the time.

"To Marinette," Tom announces, raising his glass. "Wherever she goes, may she be successful in all of her endeavors."

"To Marinette." The rest of us echo.

I bring the glass flute to my lips and take a sip of champagne. It doesn't taste sweet or dry, and it definitely isn't as bubbly as the champagne that I'm used to. I put my glass down after that, I don't have more than a sip. I'm pretty sure that Alya downed the rest of my glass when nobody was looking. Mari hands me a piece of cake, it's strawberry, served on a paper plate with plastic utensils. She smiles at me, her pink lips are perfect and kissable. It takes everything in me not to kiss her in front of everyone. So I don't kiss her, I simply stare at her, admiring her face, memorizing the location of every freckle. Her smile is the thing that I love the most. Her smile is warm, welcoming, and comforting. Her smile is home. A home that is happy and loving, a home I have never known. And that home won't be so close for much longer. This is a celebration for her. She did something amazing, she deserves everything good in the world, and I'm sitting here being completely selfish. Have I congratulated her? Have I told her how amazingly proud I am of her? I don't want her to leave. But she has to leave, so that she can grow, so that she can better herself as an artist. I convince myself that I'm okay, that everything is going to be alright. But I'm not so sure. People leave, and they don't come back, it happens. I just hope that Marinette will always stay.

"You know you can eat it, right?" She snickers.

It occurs to me that I've been holding the paper plate and staring at her like an idiot for at least five minutes.

"Right." I reply with a smirk, picking at the treat with my fork.

The cake tastes divine, it's sweet and sugary. Father would lose it if he saw me eating something with this many calories. Marinette giggles, the joyful noise erupts from her mouth and fills the room. She sounds so beautiful and happy in the purest of ways. She is going to England. She is going to leave. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

"I can get you something else if cake isn't for you." She offers.

"I'm fine." I tell her.

She studies my face for a moment before a small smile reappears on her face. I know that she sees through me, we know each other all too well. But she doesn't push, she doesn't want to make me feel uncomfortable. She wants me to talk to her when I'm comfortable with it.

"Okay," She says. "Well then at least let me take you for ice cream on Friday, and I'm paying, alright?"

I can't control the smile that breaks out on my face. How did I get lucky enough to get this amazing girl? How did I get unlucky enough that she has to go?

I quickly pull her into a tight hug, and let the smile fall from my face. She can't see it, she doesn't need to worry about how I'm feeling. As much as I want her to stay, she needs to leave.

And I will never be ready to say goodbye.

* * *

 **Never trust a hug, it's just a way to hide your face.**

 **Yes, I did steal that from Doctor Who.**

 **I just took the patronus quiz on Pottermore and my patronus an otter. I'm just like Hermione now! Except I'm a Slytherin. I'm pretty happy that I got an otter. At least it's not as disappointing as my Ilvermorny house, I got Horned Serpent and I wanted Thunderbird. Oh well.**

 **I might write something mature in a future chapter? Something very mature? Who knows. *wink***

 **Keep on reading!**


	17. Say Goodnight

Say Goodnight

 **I accidentally made myself really sad writing this chapter... oops. Enjoy chapter seventeen!**

* * *

-Marinette-

I was dreading the end of visiting hours, when I would truly be alone. My nurse and my doctor check up on me briefly before leaving for the night. And then there's nobody. I am all by myself. With nothing to do but watch my frail, weak, body and listen to the heart monitor. I'm alone with my thoughts, something that nobody ever wants. I think of Alya, Nino, and Adrien, how none of them will get any sleep tonight because they are too busy worrying about me. I think of my grandparents, and my aunt. But mostly, I think of my parents. I think about how they should be at home, sleeping in their room. How they should be getting up in the morning to bake bread and pastries, how such a normal thing will never happen again. I need to get out. I need to distract myself. I leave my room and take a seat on one of the plastic chairs in the hallway. I watch the doctors and nurses as the work day winds to a close. One by one the day nurses say their goodnights. Going home to mothers, fathers, partners, children. I watch the night nurses sign in, tending to patients and answering late night phone calls. I wonder what they're missing at home, who's tucking their child into bed, and telling them a story. I wonder if they regret taking such late shifts. I wouldn't want to work such late nights. Eventually, the hallway becomes desolate. It becomes empty and creepy. One of the lights flickers above my head, causing me to jump. I should take a walk. A walk will calm my nerves. I trudge slowly down the hallway like a ghost, my bare feet barely make a sound on the cold floor. I pass the waiting room, the one my friends spent the day in, the room is empty and dark now. There isn't a soul in sight. I continue until I pass the elevators, stopping in front of a large window. The window faces a parking lot, which is almost empty now that visiting hours are over. An ambulance speeds through the parking lot, sirens blaring, as it makes it's way to the emergency ward. I can see people walking down the sidewalks below me, but the sound of laughter and cheer that Parisian nights are always alive with doesn't reach me here. Cars pass down on the streets below, their headlights lighting up the dark of the night. The sky is an endless black sea covered in clouds. I can't see the moon or the stars this night, there is nothing but darkness wherever I look. I think about the late nights I would spend on the rooftops of this city. The nights that I would have with Chat Noir. Long talks until the wee hours of the morning, how he would always tell those terrible puns he loved so much. I miss those puns. My heart aches in my chest at the thought of being without him. I miss him. I miss Chat. I miss Adrien.

I decide it's not worth dwelling on it and continue. The hallways are lit with bright fluorescent lights and lined with uncomfortable plastic chairs. I'm all alone in the hallway, everything is empty and bare. I feel cold and alone as I make my way through the ward. I pass doors marked only with numbers, the lights are turned off so they don't disturb the patients inside. I assume that they are all in a comatose state like I am. However, some might just be waiting to be taken to the recovery ward. I wonder if I should turn around, if I shouldn't wander too far from my room. But I don't stop when the hallway ends. A pair of glass doors swing open for me as I enter the next wing. I'm not entirely sure of where I'm going, but I continue nonetheless. I turn a corner and I'm surprised to find that the walls in this ward are painted with murals. While the ward I was stuck in had bare white walls and artificial plants, this ward was decorated with cartoony-looking paintings of animals. A large purple alligator on the wall smiled and waved at me, while a large lion with a bow in it's hair pointed to a room down the hall. I couldn't help but smirk at the drawings. They were bright, and colourful, and happy. I wonder what ward this is to have such a cheerful atmosphere. There are more nurses here than any of the other hallways, but these nurses seem different. The nurses that tend to the comatose patients don't smile, but these ones do. I wonder what could make these nurses smile so much.

That's when I see it. A large glass window peering into a room, a room littered with tiny pink and blue dots sleeping peacefully in bassinets. It was a nursery. I pressed my hands up against the cool glass to watch the room. There are two nurses in the nursery, swaddling the newborns and preparing the bassinets. Some of the babies are fast asleep in their cribs, others cry and scream, while others just stare in awe at the world. The first time seeing everything, witnessing life and the universe. One of the babies looks right at me, as though I'm not invisible to her. She has a mop of black hair on her head and her wide eyes are tinted with green, the name Gemma is written in swirly letters on her bassinette. She was so beautiful and so full of potential. I could be looking at a future president, or a nobel prize winner, or an oscar winning actress. This one is going to do something great, I just know it. The room goes blurry for a moment as tears begin to block my vision. The tears spill out of my eyes and fall down my face, and I don't have the energy to wipe them away. I wanted this. At one point, I wanted nothing more than to grow up and have a family of my own. I wanted to graduate, get married, travel the world, have a career, have a baby. And now I was never going to have that. Now kids with my midnight hair and Adrien's eyes were just the fantasy of a silly teenage girl. At one point in my life, I wanted nothing more to be just like my mom. And now I was never going to be a mom. I was going to fade away, I was never going to have my own children. And that thought is what sent even more tears cascading down my face. If I left, I would never have this. But if I stayed, if I grew up. If I reconciled with Adrien, or even if I met someone else- No, I couldn't imagine it with anyone other than Adrien. I could possibly have this. But even if I did, my parents wouldn't be here to see it. My parents are not here. They will never see me have children of my own, they won't watch them grow up.

I don't know how long I stand there, crying outside of the nursery. Gemma joins me in my tears after a few minutes. I want to put my hands to the glass again and tell her that everything is okay, that there was no reason to cry. There were no monsters under the bed, nothing going bump in the dark of night. I wish I could tell her that there was nothing to be afraid of. But even if she could see me, she wouldn't understand. One of the nurses picks up the little girl in an attempt to calm her, but to no avail. She gently places the screaming child back into her bassinet and leaves the nursery. I watch Gemma for a minute as the little girl screams and cries. Maybe she's hungry, maybe she just misses her mother. She wails at the top of her lungs, letting the entire hospital know that she's here and she's alive. The nurse returns with a couple, an exhausted looking woman dressed in a hospital gown, covered by a fuzzy blue bathrobe. The man walking next to her looks just as tired, he has large dark circles underneath his eyes and his face is pale. The nurse trudges over to the bassinet to pick up little Gemma before handing her over to the parents. The minute the girl is in her mother's arms, her wailing ceases. The man and woman stand there, cradling their precious little daughter, looking at her as though she is the most amazing creature on Earth. My heart feels heavy in my chest and suddenly it's hard for me to breathe. Those were once my parents. At one point, my mom and dad held me in a hospital, smiling down at their beloved newborn daughter. The joy they must have felt when they first held me in their arms. And now they were never going to hold me again. The tears pool and swim in my eyes again, but this time I wipe them away before they fall. They will hold me again, when we're all together again. I don't stay in the nursery for much longer. I bid Gemma and her parents farewell and begin to make my way back to my room. The image of their lovely little family burns in my brain. If I stay, I won't have that. But perhaps soon, we'll all be together again.

To stay and live, or to go and be with the people that I love.

To go would mean I get to be with my family. My mom and my dad. The people that I love the most in the world. I wouldn't have to be afraid ever again. I would be okay, I would be with them. I wouldn't have to live through the pain of losing them, the pain that was already numb in my chest. If they were gone, I should go with them. It was the only way I'd see them again.

But then, on the other hand, I could stay. I could wake up and be with my friends. There were so many things that I haven't done. If I wake up, I'll see Tikki again. She'll always be there for me, she would understand me in a way that nobody else would. If she were here with me right now, what would she say? Would she tell me to stay? To grow up, to go to school, to travel the world, to experience life the way that I'm supposed to. Or would she tell me to leave? That I should be with my family. If only she were here.

I spend the rest of the night in an uncomfortable metal chair next to my cot, watching my own chest rise and fall.

* * *

-Adrien-

Father was already asleep by the time I got home. It wasn't that late, but I went straight to my room regardless. I let Plagg and Tikki out of my bag and gave them food, while I collapsed on my bed. I was too tired to change, or shower, or do much of anything really. However, I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. I was too wired to sleep, too anxious. I lay on my bed for a long time, tossing and turning, kicking the sheets. But I couldn't bring myself to fully relax. I missed her. I missed being in her arms, I missed kissing her, I missed lying with her in my bed. I missed her energetic personality, I missed the way she could always make me smile. I missed Marinette. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to convince my brain to fall asleep. But there was nothing I could do.

"Plagg?" I call to the kwami peacefully eating cheese next to me.

He and Tikki look up at me, I know that they want to help me. I know that the two of them will do anything to help me through this tough time.

"Need something?" He inquires.

"Can we go out for a bit?" I ask him. "I don't feel like sleeping right now."

I half expected him to whine and tell me to wait until he was done eating, but instead he nods slowly and puts down the wheel of cheese. Tikki smiles at me, a smile that brings comfort and familiarity. I feel reassured when I look at the red kwami, as though she is silently letting me know that everything is gonna be alright.

When I transform, the glow feels like fire on my skin, but it doesn't burn. Transforming had always filled me with adrenaline, a jolt of excitement that meant I was free. When I was Chat Noir I could go wherever I wanted, do things I could only ever dream about as Adrien. But I don't feel that adrenaline now. This is the first time I've transformed without Ladybug. I want to believe that she's gonna be waiting for me at the top of the Eiffel Tower, that we'll go on patrol the city like we always do. But she isn't. I wanted freedom as Chat Noir, but what good is freedom if you don't have someone to share it with? Being Chat Noir, it was meaningless without her.

Every rooftop I landed on reminded me of her. Every time I vaulted over the city, I would look to see if she was following behind me, even if I knew that she wouldn't be. I felt so alone without her. I can't enjoy my freedom because she's not here to share it with me. She's not here to listen to my jokes, or roll her eyes at me when I say something stupid. I wish that she was here with me. I wish that I could put my arm around her, and kiss her. I wish that we could watch the stars until they disappeared in the morning light. I just wish that she was here with me. I couldn't get her off of my mind, so I ran. I ran across the city until my legs felt numb and I couldn't breathe. I ran until my lungs felt like rubber and my heart was beating out of my chest. But no matter how much I ran, I couldn't clear my head. Because everywhere I looked I saw her face, heard her laugh. Everywhere I looked, there were memories of her. The place where we first met, the route we took on patrol, the place where I first fell in love with her. She hovered above the city, a guardian angel protecting the people she loved. I missed her. I wanted so badly to sneak into the hospital, to just be near her. But I couldn't. I couldn't be with her until the hospital opened in the morning.

I ended up on her balcony. It might have been because I wished she was there, or maybe it was muscle memory taking me to the place I needed to be for comfort. The flowers in her window box smelt as sweet as ever. It smelt like home. But everything was different. I wasn't greeted by the smell of baked bread. Nor was I greeted by a flirtatious smile from the love of my life. Instead I was greeted by silence and an empty house. It was easy to pretend, sitting on her rooftop, that she was asleep inside the house. That she was peacefully dreaming sweet dreams. I knew that if I opened the hatch she wouldn't be there, but I did it anyways. I was immediately taken back to the last time I snuck into her room, how I held her in my arms, how her lips felt on mine, how we had to be quiet so that we wouldn't wake her parents. Her bed sheets still smell like her, like flowers and baked bread. I want to lose myself in that scent, forget every stupid little problem in my life. Her room is silent, there's not a living soul around. The room itself is haunted, I'm plagued by memories of us, of when we were happy.

Her computer is on, I guess that she forgot to turn it off this morning. I sit down at her desk, even though I know very well she wouldn't want me invading her privacy. And usually I wouldn't. But I just missed her so much, and I wanted some form of normalcy, something to let me know that everything was okay. This was wrong, this was completely wrong. With a click of the mouse the screen comes back to life, I blink a few times so that my eyes adjust to the brightness. She's logged in to her email account. She must have spent the entire morning refreshing the page, waiting for a letter. She has three unread emails. One is an alert telling her there's a sale at her favourite store. One from Alya. And one that almost makes my heart stop in my chest. There's an unread email from Central Saint Martins. Sent just three hours ago. I move the cursor over the email, but I force myself to stop. I can't read her mail. I can't abuse her trust like that. But at the same time, it's a letter from her dream school. And it might be good news. Maybe that's all she needs. Maybe if I go to her with good news in the morning, she'll want to get better. Central Saint Martins. I was selfish to want her to stay, I realize that. It wasn't that I didn't want her to achieve her dreams, I just didn't want her to leave me. It was all so stupid in context. London isn't that far away. I can see her on the weekends and during the holidays. If anyone could make a long distance relationship work, it's the two of us. That is, if she still wants me of course. I hope that this letter gives us good news. I hope that she did get in. I hope that she gets everything that she's ever wanted and so much more. Funny how the one thing that I was so terrified would take her away from me might just bring her back.

I took a deep breath and clicked on the email.

* * *

 **I wrote something really sinful for the next chapter... I don't write sinful things, but I did. It needs editing desperately, like you have no idea. So yeah, the next chapter will have an M rating... I don't know if I should move the entire fic rating to M for one chapter.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed chapter seventeen everyone!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	18. Say Forever

Say Forever

 **Hey everybody, welcome to my first attempt at writing something mature. I have never written anything like this before, so keep in mind that I am still learning. So yeah, this chapter is rated M for some adult fun. I hope that you enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

There's a large overnight bag sitting by the door, containing a change of clothes, toiletries, and my portfolio. I have an alarm set for five, even though the chances that I'll wake up that early are slim to none. That is, if I can even fall asleep to begin with. I'm all set to catch the 6:30 train to London for my interview. And I'm freaking the fuck out. I'm laying in my bed with my eyes wide open, endlessly tossing and turning. Tikki calmly strokes my hair, whispering to me, telling me that everything will be alright. I'm breathing heavily, I'm shaking underneath the warmth of my comforter. What if I mess up? What if my portfolio isn't perfect? What if they don't like my outfit? Maybe they won't care about what I wear tomorrow. Who am I kidding? These are professors from an elite fashion school, they are going to judge my outfit. I reach for my phone and consider sending Alya a text, but by now she's already asleep. She won't get my text until the morning. I sigh and pull the comforter over my head. I try to calm my breathing, I try to forget where I'm going, what I'm doing. I try to forget about England, and school, and my future. Just stay calm and focus on one thing at a time.

Then I hear a knock. Just above my bed, where the trap door leads to the balcony. Curiously, I lift the hatch and poke my head out into the cold night air. The sky is covered in clouds, but I can still see the faint glow of the moon shining down upon the world. There are no stars that I can see, just the endless black of night, the indigo sky. Everything is calm and tranquil, the slight breeze carries with it the smell of flowers. The world is asleep, but the city is awake. I can hear cars zipping past on the street down below and the chatter of people walking down the sidewalk. I open the hatch further, stepping out onto the balcony, into the cool night. That is when I realize I'm not alone.

He stands tall in his black catsuit, grinning devilishly at me. His smile calms me, helps me to forget about tomorrow, helps me to remember that I have something special. His blonde hair is disheveled and doused with sweat, like he's been out here for a while. His hands are stuffed inside his suit pockets. His smell is a mixture of cologne and sweat, and it is completely intoxicating.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, grinning uncontrollably.

"I wanted to wish you luck." He replies, his arms snaking around my waist.

"You wished me luck an hour ago," I remind him. "Remember? You came over for dinner?"

"That was Adrien." He replies, leaning down so that his forehead is connected with mine. "Chat Noir needs to wish his Lady luck."

A cold wind brushes past us, sending shivers through the both of us. It's so cold outside that I can see his breath, an apparition of steam leaving his mouth. His closeness, the heat from his body, his breath on my face, it keeps me warm. My hands travel slowly along his chest, the material of his suit is smooth and soft as my fingers graze his torso. I wish that we could stay on the balcony, just like this. But the night is growing colder, and I don't need to go to England with a cold.

"Would you like to come inside?" I inquire, breaking away from our embrace to open the trapdoor.

"Sure." He breathes in response.

"We have to be quiet," I inform him as I begin my descent into my room. "My parents are asleep downstairs."

He follows behind me, the two of us stumble on our way down and land on my bed in an ungraceful mess of tangled limbs. We smirk at each other, his smile continues to send shivers down my spine. He sits on my comforter next to me, his eyes never leave my face, as though he's completely entranced by me. He places his hand on mine, his touch is warm and gentle. He leans in closer and rests his head on my shoulder. I can smell him, that musky scent that is completely and undeniably him, I can feel the warmth of his body as a spark of adrenaline shoots through me. I want him. I want to kiss him and touch him. I never want this moment to end.

"How do you feel?" He whispers.

"Terrified." I admit.

He lifts his head up from my shoulder and looks at me. His smile is sweet and concerned at the same time. He raises an eyebrow at me. Then he wraps his arms around me, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"It's okay to be afraid." He whispers. "Just remember that you're Ladybug, you fought for the city of Paris for the better part of the last four years. If anyone can do this it's you."

He looks me in the eyes, he opens and closes his mouth. He looks like he wants to say more, but he looks like he isn't sure what to say.

"I know you can do this," He finally continues. "And…"

He takes a breath, his smile somehow becoming even larger. He's holding me so close, his face is only a few inches from mine. My heart skips a beat and I can feel my face going red. There is something so incredibly intimate about being this close to him, something that makes me feel loved unconditionally.

"I love you," He whispers, as though it's a secret that only I am meant to hear. "With all my heart, I love you."

My heart leaps and flips in my chest. I suddenly feel completely overwhelmed with this warm, fuzzy feeling that makes my heart rate speed up. I feel nothing but immense happiness as he pulls me even closer to him. Even though I already knew that he loved me, hearing him say it so genuinely makes me feel special in a way that I've never felt before.

"I love you too, mon chaton." I whisper.

I look at him, our foreheads and noses connected, his perfect lips are just an inch away from mine. I can feel his breath on my face. His scent is heady and thrilling, I wish that I could find words to describe exactly what he smells like because it's completely addicting. I run my fingers through his hair, which is scraggly and silky.

He leans in first, and our lips brush together tenderly and lovingly for only a few seconds. It starts off slow and loving, something kind and sweet. This is how he usually kisses me, something to savour, something affectionate and slow. But this time he pulls me closer, gripping at the back of my sleep shirt. Our kisses quickly become rougher, more desirous. He tastes as good as he smells, like mint mixed with something else that I can't quite place. I can feel his hands slowly travelling their way down my torso, memorizing every curve of my body. I begin to quiver and shake with nerves, but also with pleasure and longing. His hands stop at the hem of my shirt, just above my hips. He pulls away for a moment and looks me in the eyes, silently asking if I want this. I take a deep breath and slowly guide his hands underneath my shirt, I can feel heat begin to pool in my stomach as his hands travel along my curves. My skin tingles under his touch like it's alive. I place my hands on his chest again, but it isn't enough.

"Detransform." I tell him, it comes out more demanding than I mean it to. "I want to feel you."

He does as he's told. Black catsuit disintegrating and turning into a cotton shirt and jeans. His kwami immediately flies away, murmuring something about teenagers. I grab Adrien by the hem of his shirt and start kissing him again. Our tongues battle for dominance as he slowly lowers the both of us onto my bed. His bare hands light a fire on my skin with every touch and tease. His mouth leaves mine as he slowly begins trailing kisses along my jawline and down towards my neck. I can't keep down the tiny whimper the escapes my lips.

"Shh." He whispers, kissing a sensitive spot on my neck. "Your parents are asleep downstairs."

I giggle and force him to roll over. I'm suddenly on top, straddling him. I feel strong, dominating, empowered. He looks up at me, half-lidded eyes dark with desire. I feel an excited flutter in my stomach, making me want him even more. I kiss him again, trailing kisses from his lips to his neck. His hands find their way underneath my shirt again, trailing along my stomach and upwards until they are just underneath my breasts. That's when I pull away for a brief moment. I look down at him with wide eyes, he looks up at me with uncertainty. We've never gone this far before. Sure we've kissed and touched each other, but not much beyond that. We're teetering on the brink of no return, and it's a bit nerve-racking. I take a deep breath and kiss him again. I want this. I want this more than anything. As long as he wants it too.

"If you don't want to…" He starts.

I shake my head. "No, I want to."

"Me too." He breathes, his low moans send shivers coursing throughout my entire body.

His skin is warm as he slowly lifts his shirt over his head. Damn, he has an amazing body. His skin is perfectly tanned, his arms are large and strong, and his muscles are defined and well-built. I have the intense longing to sink my teeth into his abs. But I don't, yet. I kiss his neck first, then trail down to his chest. My fingers trace his abdomen, my nails grazing his warm skin. The look on his face turns lewd as I kiss and tease his flesh. I can tell that he's eager, and a little impatient.

"Mari." He moans, his hips give a tiny jerk as my name leaves his lips.

Hearing my name fall out of his lips excites me. I can feel the beating of his heart beneath me. He cups my face with his hands and forces me back up to his face. He kisses me again, rough and hard. This kiss isn't like our others, it's sensual and sexy, it's selfish and loving. I only break the kiss to help him remove my shirt, my bare skin exposed to him. I don't feel embarrassed, nor do I feel the urge to cover up. I want him to see me, to admire me, to touch me, kiss me, tease me, and so many other things. He stops for a minute to appreciate my body, to worship every part of me. He eyes me hungrily as his hands travel to new places, at first he touches me as though he's afraid to hurt me. But then, his hands become bolder, his touch becoming slightly rougher. His name tumbles from my lips as he feels my skin, as he teases me with his fingers. My entire body is trembling and quaking with pleasure and lust as my hands travel further down his torso to his hips. My fingers fumble with the buckle on his belt as he places delicate kisses on my chest. This is new, for the both of us. But it's exciting, thrilling, and oh so pleasing. Our moans mix together, creating a perfect melody, a song for just the two of us as our bodies meld together.

* * *

-Adrien-

It's gone. My virginity is gone. I gave it away to the most amazing girl to ever walk the Earth. I smile at her as we lay side by side in her bed, covered only by her comforter. I hold her in my arms, hugging her bare body against mine. Her skin is hot and sweaty, but still smooth and electrifying. Her head rests on my chest, and I slowly caress her hair as her fingers trace slow circles on my skin. Her breathing is slow and calm, I can feel her heart beating quickly against my skin. She closes her eyes for a moment, cuddling into my chest. I hold her tighter and place a kiss on her forehead. I still can't believe that we did it, that it was real. Sure, I've had fantasies about doing this with her, both as Ladybug and as Marinette. But this time I'm not going to wake up with a soiled pair of boxers. I just had sex with Marinette, my girlfriend, and it was the greatest thing that I have ever experienced in my entire life. She lifts her head from my chest and smiles at me, leaning in to kiss me. She tastes like apples and she smells like chocolate chip cookies. The smell is completely invigorating and her touch is exhilarating. I run my hands along her bare skin once again, igniting another spark between us. Our kiss is a heated mess of tangled legs and panting, it's wet and clumsy in the best way. I want to kiss her again, feel her smooth skin beneath my wandering hands, worship her entire body the way she deserves. Treat her like a princess. Marinette is not a person, she's a drug, and I'm completely addicted.

"Thank you." She whispers as she pulls away.

"For what?" I inquire.

"For being here." She tells me, kissing my cheek.

I can't stop the stupid grin that appears on my face as she kisses me again.

"For reminding me to believe in myself." She whispers as her lips ghost over my neck. "I know that I'm going to be just fine tomorrow."

There was never a doubt in my mind that she wouldn't do well. She was going to get into this school, she was going to travel far away. She was going to leave me behind. The mere thought makes my heart twist and aches in my chest. If Marinette leaves, then I'll have no one. I'll be alone, just like I was before I became Chat Noir. I guess that I'll always have Plagg, I'll always be Chat Noir. But my father probably won't let me go to university, it hardly matters that I'm an adult and that I have my own life. I have never been able to make my own choices, my life was never mine. I hug her close, burying my nose into her hair, it smells like a tropical breeze mixed with just a bit of sweat. I want her. More than anything else in the world. I want to stay here, in this bed, wrapped in her passionate embrace. I kiss her head, letting my lips linger on her scalp.

"I love you." I whisper.

It's the truest of statements. The future is unknown and petrifying. I don't know if I'm going to university. I don't know if Mari is staying here or leaving Paris behind. I don't know if I will ever get the chance to do this with her again. But I do know one thing, that I am in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And the mere thought of being without her completely ruins me.

"I love you too." She breathes, leaning in to kiss me again. "But I should get some sleep."

"Right," I sigh. "Call me when you get to London."

"I will." She replies, brushing her lips against mine one final time.

I hesitantly untangle myself from Marinette, letting the cold air find my bare skin. I didn't want to let go, I didn't want our moment to end. But it was over before I could blink. This girl is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. And I'm not ready to let go of her. I will never be ready to let go. But I do. I stand up from her bed and slowly dress myself. I can feel her eyes on me as I do, as though she is trying to savour every last moment we have, memorize every image. I smile at her one last time before I transform, I'm about to open the hatch when I feel her hand on my arm.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, her eyes filled with concern.

"Fantastic." I tell her, kissing her one last time. "Absolutely fantastic."

I climb through the hatch and out into the cold night air before she can realize that it's a lie. I jump across the rooftops of Paris, purposely taking a detour just so that I can stay out a little longer. The night is frigid, but it hardly matters to me. I'm Chat Noir, exploring the city in the most amazing way imaginable. This is the only time I get to be free, that I get to make my own choices, have control over my own destiny. But then I arrive home, and I need to transform back into plain old' Adrien again. Since when did coming home feel like going to prison? Plagg gives me a sour look the second he leaves my ring.

"You planned that." He accuses.

"No, I didn't." I counter.

"You had condoms." He replies.

"A precaution." I tell him. "Just in case something happened."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Plagg scoffs, he starts to float off to where his cheese is stored before he stops in midair. "You know that just because she might be leaving doesn't mean you have to break up, right?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. Of course I knew that. Why was he even bringing this up?

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You're moving pretty quickly, don't you think?" Plagg inquired. "Almost like you were afraid that you would never get the chance to be with her."

So what if we haven't been dating for very long? We've known each other for years, we've loved each other for years. We both wanted to do it. We had protection. We were safe and consensual, and we are in love. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong.

"We did it because we love each other." My voice sounds confident, but I'm suddenly stricken by a pang of guilt.

Were Marinette and I rushing our relationship? Did we have sex too soon? Maybe not. Maybe it just happens when you're ready for it to happen. Marinette and I were ready, we wouldn't have done it if we weren't. Neither of us had any regrets. Marinette and I love each other. We have a strong connection that knows no bounds, and now that connection was infinite. That's all that matters.

I lay in bed, recalling images of her skin, her scent, her kisses. How her bare skin felt against mine, her perfect body completely bare in front of me. How she looked straddling me, bouncing up and down on my lap. How beautiful and purely amazing she was.

I'm not sure how I imagined my first time going. But Marinette was everything that I could have ever wanted, and so much more.

* * *

 **Okay, you might be a little disappointed that it actually wasn't that explicit... But keep in mind that I am a virgin. That shouldn't really be a surprise considering how I write, and considering the fact that I have only just started my second year of high school. I don't know that much about sex, so I probably shouldn't try to write explicit things because it would probably be horribly inaccurate. The sex ed curriculum at my school isn't the best, so the little that I know about sex comes from my sisters. They basically just tell me to always use protection and be responsible. Which is also good advice for everybody reading this. Be safe friends!**

 **I hope that you guys enjoyed chapter 18!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	19. Say You're Sorry

Say You're Sorry

 **So school just let out about three hours ago and I have two tests tomorrow. Yay! I know that I should be studying, but nothing is sticking in my brain. I do feel pressure to do well in school, mostly because my sister graduated so young and I'm nowhere near as smart as her. As much as I want to write, I do have to focus on school. Sorry, I won't bore you anymore. Here is chapter 19.**

* * *

-Marinette-

It felt as though the morning might never come. But eventually it did. The first golden rays of light found their way through the open window of my room, banishing the darkness with it's peaceful glow. I was still sitting by my unconscious body, watching her breath as the monitor let out a steady beat. My condition hadn't changed, that was something. I wasn't any worse, but I wasn't any better either. The morning was silent and somewhat unsettling. I hadn't gotten any sleep, nor had I felt tired, I simply immersed myself in the silence. It wasn't a nice feeling, being all alone in the silence. As long as there was noise, I had company. The silence made me feel like I was the only one left, like I was all alone in the world. I truly was all alone in the world. There is no one here with me. I have no family, no friends, I have no one. I thought of my mother, when she took me to London for my interview. She kissed my head and told me not to be afraid. She told me that life was about taking risks, and that no matter what happened she believed in me. She told me that I was going to be something brilliant, no matter what. She put her arms around me, told me that everything was going to be alright. I don't know how I am supposed to live without her. How I was supposed to live with either of them. There was no one to put their arms around me when I felt sad. There was nothing, and I was afraid. I didn't have to stay here like this. I could go. I could let myself fade away. I could be with them. Who could blame me? What did I really have to live for?

It felt like hours passed before the doctor came to check up on me. Her dark hair tied up in a knot at the top of her head, hands tucked into the pockets of her white lab coat. She smiles, even if I can't see it.

"Good morning." She greets me.

She goes about her usual routine, checking my IV, monitoring my vitals, occasionally writing things down on the clipboard tucked under her arm.

"You're a strong one." She tells me, writing down some medical words that I don't understand.

I watch her for a while, the way her dark brown eyes dart around the room, how her smile looks somewhat bittersweet. I observe how the birthmark on her cheek wiggles when she speaks. Her black eyeliner is slightly smudged, as though she has been rubbing her eyes, and she smells like fresh coffee.

"You're definitely stronger than I was," She continues. "When I lost my parents, I thought that my life was over."

Her eyes became misty, as though the memory was still painful to recall. It probably was hard for her to remember such a traumatic event. Losing someone so close to you so suddenly is like losing a part of yourself. It's a scar that is never going to heal, I know that now. But now I wonder, what will happen if I don't join them? If I stay, if I continue, will I remember them forever? Will I constantly be reminded that the people I loved the most are no longer with me? Or will I forget? Forgetting them is even more terrifying than remembering them. If I forget them, if I forget all the things that they did for me, then what would be the point?

"I wish that I could tell you that it gets better," She whispers. "But I won't sugar-coat something truly terrible."

She wipes her eyes quickly before tucking her clipboard back under her arm and heading for the door. I take a moment to let her words sink in, to let them truly sink in. They were gone. My parents were gone. They were never coming back. And it was hard to accept. It was hard to believe. Her figure becomes blurry and disfigured behind my tears as they swim in my eyes. I let them fall down my face, not even bothering to wipe them away. She was definitely right about feeling as though my life was over. My life hadn't even truly begun and it was already over. There were so many things that I still wanted to do, still wanted to see. But was it really worth it if I had nobody to share that with me? I watch the doctor again, and I wish that I could ask her if she has any advice for me. But I can't ask. I won't be heard.

"Someone requested to see you," She adds, her voice becoming somewhat bitter. "We don't usually let criminals talk to our patients, but we've made an exception."

And then she leaves. Criminals? What did she mean by criminals? Had Hawkmoth come to see me or something? I let out a chuckle at the thought. Even if Hawkmoth did know that I was Ladybug and that I was in the hospital, he definitely wouldn't go out of his way to see me. I wonder if he'll hear about Ladybug's disappearance. He'd probably be happy, considering that I put him in prison. Luckily, it isn't the unmasked face of Paris' former supervillain that wanders into my hospital room. Instead, there is a man, probably in his late thirties, with his hands cuffed behind his back. A police officer is with him, they both look completely exhausted. I don't recognize either of them. Who were they? Why were they here?

"Hello, Marinette." The man in handcuffs says.

I'm taken aback slightly. How does a complete stranger know my name? Then it hits me. The handcuffs, the police officer. This is the guy who hit us. This is the drunk driver who killed my parents. He's the reason why my parents are dead. He's the reason why I'm stuck in a damn hospital bed. I feel the anger begin to bubble up in my chest, my entire body starts shaking uncontrollably. The tears that I had begun to shed for my parents coming full force. Suddenly I can hardly breathe, I'm struggling to put air in my lungs. Why did he have to live? How come some drunken idiot got to live while my parents died? My parents have never done anything wrong in their lives, why wasn't he being punished when he so clearly deserved it? The tears don't stop now. They fall from my eyes like rain, my loud sobs fall on deaf ears.

"You don't know me," He continues. "But I'm the one responsible for everything that's happened."

Damn right you are! I want to yell. I want to tell the cop to lock him in a cell and throw away the key.

"You have every right to hate me," He goes on. "There is no excuse for what I've done."

No, there isn't. I hope that this man has to live with the guilt of what he's done every day for the rest of his life. I study the man's face. He does feel remorse, I can tell in the way his voice trembles as he speaks, the way his shoulders slump, and the way he bows his head. He may feel sorry for what he has done, he may have come to explain that to me, but I do not feel sympathy for him.

"I am not asking you for forgiveness, nor do I expect that from you," His voice quakes slightly with every word. "Just know that I hope that you get better, that you live."

Why? Because you will never be able to live with the guilt of knowing that you killed a seventeen-year-old? Because you know that my friends will cry, because you know that people will pass my grave and feel sorry because I died young? Can you not handle the guilt? You made the choice to get into your car after a few too many drinks. You made the choice to drive. You may not have intended to hit a family happily on their way to a wedding, but you did. And now you have to live with the consequences.

"I am sorry, for everything I've done." The words come out breathy, as though he can hardly get them out.

I look over at the police officer, there's the tiniest gleam of sympathy in his eyes. As though he actually feels bad for a man who killed two people and put a seventeen-year-old in a coma. I scoff at him. Let him feel sympathy towards a criminal. It's not like he's the one affected by all of this. I'm relieved when they leave. I don't need an apology from a stranger. I don't want an apology from a stranger. I want my parents back. And unless that man can give me back my parents, I'm not interested in anything he has to say. He did mean it. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he truly was sorry. But that didn't change the fact that he took something from me. Something that was so precious and important to me. Something so irreplaceable, that is what made him unworthy of my forgiveness or compassion.

Usually parents tell you to forgive and forget. But my parents were not like most. They told me to forgive, but only if that person was worthy of forgiveness. Most of the time, I did forgive. I even forgave people who didn't deserve it sometimes. But I did not need to forgive this person. People who are not worthy do not deserve my forgiveness. I had to remember that.

* * *

-Adrien-

I jumped out of bed the second my alarm clock went off. I didn't sleep at all last night. How could I? I was terrified for Marinette. I just kept thinking about her smile and her laugh, and the way she always smelled like baked bread. I kept thinking about her, and how I messed up, and how I had to make sure that I made things right again. I saw her eyes every time I closed mine, like a ghost that was constantly looming over me. I rushed through my morning routine, brushing my hair and my teeth and throwing on my clothes as quickly as I possibly could. I wasn't going to bother with breakfast, I felt too sick to eat. I did stuff enough camembert and cookies into my bag to tide over Plagg and Tikki, at least until Marinette woke up. Because she was going to wake up. She had to. I ran down the stairs, not really giving a damn about the cacophonous noise I was making in my rush to see my Marinette. I was almost out the door when I heard something that made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Adrien?" It was my father's voice, he was calling me from his office.

I stood frozen, with my hand on the doorknob. Maybe I could run, just like I had yesterday, maybe I could pretend that I never heard my father calling my name. My father didn't matter in that moment. All that mattered was Marinette, and seeing Marinette, and apologizing to her. But then my father's head poked out of his office, and our eyes locked. I was definitely caught. He had a stern look on his face like he always did, as though he were in a constant state of disapproval.

"Adrien, you will see me in my office." Father demanded.

I usually would have been respectful. But today was the day to throw all of my manners out the window.

"Father, I'm sorry, but I can't." I tell him, reaching for the doorknob again.

My father raises an eyebrow at me.

"And why is that exactly?" He inquires, he uses that annoyingly calm voice that has a way of getting on my nerves.

I don't have time for this. Marinette is in a hospital bed and I didn't see her yesterday because I'm too much of a damn chickenshit to see my own girlfriend.

"I have to go to the hospital," I'm practically pleading at this point. "I have to see Marinette."

My father sighs heavily, I have a feeling he's about to tell me that he's tired of my excuses. His eyes narrow at me and his brow creases angrily.

"You can see your friend later," Father fumed. "But I have to talk to you about your behavior first."

I took a deep breath.

"No," I tell him. "I'm going to see my girlfriend."

My father raises an eyebrow again, yet the infuriated look never leaves his face.

"Girlfriend?" His eyes widen slightly at the word.

"Yes, Father, girlfriend." I repeat.

I watch as his face softens slightly, as though the information is slowly sinking in.

"I wasn't aware that you had a girlfriend." He doesn't even try to hide the genuine shock in his voice.

Now it's my turn to be angry. Didn't know I had a girlfriend? I told him all about Marinette. I told him about my first date, and how nice it was to have someone that I connected with. I told him that Marinette was a designer, that I was proud of everything that she's accomplished. I told him, I never tell him anything, and he didn't even listen to me. I knew that he wouldn't listen to me. This is why I don't tell him things.

"Because you don't care!" I finally shout. My father's eyes widen, he opens his mouth to speak, but I don't let him get a word out. "You never cared about what was going on in my life or what I wanted!"

"Adrien-" He tries.

"No!" I cut him off. Marinette told me that I should make him listen. I'm a new man now, and I'm going to fight for what I want. "You don't listen to me, you don't care about what I want even though I've always done everything you wanted me to do. Did you know that I applied to the University of Paris?"

Father shakes his head.

"Well I did, and I got in," I tell him. "And I want to go. I don't want to be a full-time model. I want to go to the same school that my mother went to."

I wait for a reaction from him. I half expect him to yell at me, to berate me and tell me that I was being immature and selfish. But he didn't. He continued to stare at me with a straight face, not moving or talking. It was an odd sight, seeing my father at a complete loss for words. I noticed him tense up a bit, his jaw clenched. I had no idea what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

"Oh." He finally uttered. Just that one word.

"Oh?" I repeat. "One word?"

My father lets out a long breath and looks down at the floor.

"Go see her." He tells me monotonously before vanishing back into his office.

I feel bad, but I don't need to be told twice. I throw open the door, the early morning sun beating down on my face as I go. I rush down the driveway and towards the car. My driver is sitting in the driver's seat with the window rolled down, he's reading today's paper. I don't even need to ask him where to take me, the second I hear my seat buckle click we're moving down the driveway. The streets of Paris are calm in the morning. Most of the city is probably still asleep. Most of the shops are closed, their lights turned off and their signs flipped. Buses roll passed, carrying a few early birds through the tranquil city streets. I don't see many people out right now. There will probably be more later. But for now the city is quiet. The city that Marinette and I worked so hard to protect. The city is safe now. Paris doesn't really need Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore, but I need Ladybug. I will always need Ladybug. We slow down to a stop in front of the hospital, and I thank my driver quickly before rushing through the glass doors of the wing. I stand in the lobby for a minute, taking in the smell of soap and cleaning products. It's a terrible scent, I hope that Marinette doesn't have to inhale it for much longer.

There's a flower stand in the lobby, right next to a little shop. I can't exactly go to see Marinette empty handed. I march up to the stand, the middle-aged woman puts down her magazine and smiles humbly at me.

"I need a dozen pink roses." I tell her, digging through my bag for my wallet.

"Goodness," She smiles, preparing my order. "What did you do?"

A lot. I did so many fucking stupid things. But now is my chance to fix them. Now is my chance to fix everything.

* * *

 **Would you guys be mad if I did two chapters of flashback back to back? I don't want to publish the fight scene after Adrien talks to Marinette in the hospital. So chapter 20 would be Marinette traveling to England and then chapter 21 would be their fight, followed by chapter 22 which would be Adrien and Marinette in the hospital. Honestly, that scene is so freaking difficult to write you have no idea.**

 **I should probably go study for those two tests that I have tomorrow. Help me.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	20. Say You're Mine

Say You're Mine

 **I am so tired it's not even funny. Marinette is going to London for her interview in this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

-Marinette-

I looked out the window, seeing nothing but artificial light and shadows as the train rolled through the chunnel. The train wailed and creaked as it sped down the track, bumping and grinding as it went. I had been on the train for an hour and a half already, after waking up at some unholy hour to catch the earliest possible train leaving Paris. It won't take that much longer to get to London, which is good, because my legs are already starting to shake uncontrollably. I've been nervous about this trip for the last twenty-four hours, and every minute that I spend on this damn train is just making it worse. I've been a bit antsy all morning, and I can barely focus on anything other than everything that could possibly go wrong today. This day could determine the course of my entire life, and that is undeniably horrifying. My entire body shakes with nerves, I have to work hard to control my breathing, my heart is beating rapidly against my ribcage. My stomach aches and twists with nerves, I feel like I'm going to puke up my breakfast. My fingers anxiously tap on the armrest, my knees restlessly twitch together, I'm a complete mess. I check my makeup in my compact mirror for the tenth time that morning, nothing too extravagant, just enough to look more professional and mature. My mother is asleep in the seat next to mine. Her head bobs lazily with every bump and jerk of the train. I wish that I could sleep. I've tried, but I'm too nervous to do anything more than shut my eyes. I have a book with me. An old weathered book with a bent spine and thin, dull yellow pages. It's about a murder on a train, oh, the irony. I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes trying my best to relax before the train arrives in London, that's when I feel her hand on top of mine. Her touch is soothing, it reminds me of how loved I am, how proud everyone is no matter what happens today.

"Relax sweetheart," She whispers, rubbing my back in slow circles. "Everything is going to be okay."

I take another deep breath, but it doesn't calm my nerves. God, I feel so nauseous.

"Mom, what if I screw everything up?" I ask her, leaning so that my head rests on her shoulder. She slowly strokes my hair, it's comforting and safe, but the feeling doesn't last for long. "What if I chose the wrong designs for my portfolio? Maybe I should have gone with the yellow outfit instead of the blue. Maybe they want something different. What if I say the wrong thing?"

I start hyperventilating as tears begin to pool in my eyes, obscuring my vision. I quickly wipe my eyes, thick black mascara coming off in big globs as I do. Mama holds me close and kisses my forehead lightly. I don't want to cry, but I don't know what to do anymore. I worked so hard putting together my portfolio. I spent hours labouring over designs and garments, I carefully picked out unique designs that showcased who I was as an artist. I've worked so hard to get here. This was everything that I've ever wanted, and today was the day my fate would be decided. The next four years of my life depend on how the next six hours go. I take a deep breath to calm myself, the tears stop falling from my eyes, my heart rate slowly returns to its normal speed.

"This is just a school," Mama tells me, her voice calm and loving. "I know it seems like this big thing, this huge giant thing that has every possibility of going wrong, but it isn't. Maybe you'll go to school here, maybe you'll stay in France, whatever happens you're going to become something absolutely brilliant."

She kisses me on the forehead again and continues to stroke my hair. Brilliant. I'm going to be something fantastic. Something extraordinary. Something that nobody has ever seen before. I can do only my best. If my best isn't good enough here, it will be good enough somewhere. I should have known that I would be fine, but when you're seventeen you overwork yourself over every little thing. So I don't get into the school of my dreams, most people don't, but that doesn't mean I didn't work hard. If I don't get into Central then I'll get in somewhere else. I'll thrive wherever I am. I have to remind myself.

Before I know it, I'm stepping off the train in London. I'm standing on the platform, my suitcase in one hand, my carry-on in the other, and it's raining. It's raining in the city of London, the sky is grey and dark, the water patters down on the glass ceiling that covers the platform. All around me there are people with colourful umbrellas, pulling trolleys and suitcases, dragging friends and children. A group of backpackers with Australian accents wander passed, hurrying to catch their train. They smile and laugh together like they're having the time of their lives. I wonder if I'll ever backpack. Being Ladybug put any thoughts of travel on hold for the last four years, as I had a city to protect. But now that the city doesn't need me anymore, I can go away, travel all over Europe. No, I can travel all over the world. Mama and I hail a cab from the train station, and the small yellow car zips through the busy streets of London town. We drive passed the towering buildings of a concrete jungle, down passed the waterfront. I see the London Eye, Big Ben, and Tower Bridge in all their glory, and it's amazing. I won't have time to explore today, but I'll be back someday, regardless of whether I go to school here or not.

We stop near the university, and my legs begin to quake all over again. It's an hour before my interview, and the nerves are making a reappearance. I can barely eat the grilled panini that Mama bought me for lunch, as my stomach is still threatening to bring up my breakfast. I can hardly wait for all of this to be over, so that all I have to do is sit at home and wait for the letter. Mama continues to give me words of encouragement and wisdom, telling me how proud she is, how much she loves me. She calms my nerves a bit. I'm so nervous that I forget that I was supposed to call Adrien, and Alya, and Papa. I hope that they're all okay in Paris without me for the day.

Before I know it, I'm standing outside the door to the lecture hall where my interview will take place. I check my makeup one last time, smooth the wrinkles in my skirt, and fix the bun that I opted for to give me a more professional look. I clutch my portfolio tightly in my hands as I wait for my name to be called. I inhale and exhale slowly a few times, reminding myself to remain calm. It's just an interview, one of many. If I get it, I get it, and if I don't, then I don't. Simple as that.

"Remember, you can do this." Mama whispers to me, her hand on my shoulder. "Don't be afraid sweetheart, leap fearlessly, you're going to miss a lot of opportunities if you don't. It is when you are taking risks that the best moments in life happen."

I hug her one last time, tightly. And that's when I know that I'm ready. I can take these risks, I can achieve something amazing. All I need to do is jump and hope that the safety net will appear. I take on last calming breath before the admissions lady opens the door to the lecture hall. She is dressed in a pencil skirt and an orange blouse, she adjusts her glasses and stares down at the clipboard in her arms.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" Her accent is posh and flows like melted butter.

I smile at my mother one final time before following the lady into the lecture hall.

* * *

-Adrien-

I don't hear from her in the morning. I pace back and forth around my room, my phone sitting anxiously on the coffee table. It takes every ounce of self control in me not to call her first. What if she's in the middle of her interview right now? If I call her I could accidentally interrupt her interview and completely ruin her chance to go to this amazing school and Marinette will hate me forever. So I don't call her first. I pace back and forth around my room, I'd even take a text at this point I'm so anxious. Just let me know that you're okay Marinette, that you made it to London safely and everything is alright. Just call me. I check the time on my phone, I have a photo shoot in a half hour. It's my first photoshoot since my nose healed, and if Marinette doesn't call me before I have to leave then I am going to spend hours worrying about her. My chest feels tight suddenly, I'm not entirely sure why. You'd think that I was the one going for an interview. I fall backward on my bed, and my mind begins to wander. What if she were right here, right now? What if we were lying together in my bed, arms around each other, just holding one another. Everything just feels so right when she's in my arms, everything is warm and soft and comfortable. The way I would kiss her if she was here, the way I would touch her, the way she would kiss and touch me. But when I open my eyes, my bed is cold and empty. She isn't here. She isn't with me. I bury my face in my pillow and groan.

"I miss her." I mumble.

"I don't doubt it." I hear Plagg's voice and force myself to remove my face from my pillow. "What are you going to do if she leaves?"

There's that stupid word again. Leave. Why does everyone want to leave? Why does everything have to change? Why can't things just stay the way they are. It seems that the moment things seem to be going right in my life everything just goes wrong. I don't want things to change. I don't want Marinette to leave. And if she does go, if she doesn't stay, I don't know what I'm going to do. I was completely lost when my mom left, I didn't know how to handle it. To say that I was lost was an understatement, I was completely broken. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to live without her. I was just a kid, I didn't know how to deal with loss. I'd like to say that I'm all grown up and I know better now, but that isn't true. At least when Marinette leaves she won't be abandoning me. Unless…

"Plagg, what if she doesn't want to have a long distance relationship?" I ask, trying to hide the anxiety on my face.

"I knew it." Plagg groaned. "You think that she's not coming back, that she doesn't care about you.""I know that she cares." I mutter.

"I know that she cares." I mutter.

"Then trust that she loves you enough to stay." Plagg tells me, taking a seat on my shoulder. "She'll always come back, even if she goes away, she'll come back to you."

She'll come back to you. She'll always come back. But in order to come back she still has to leave. And I'm not ready for that to happen. I roll over onto my back, my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. If she didn't want a long distance relationship then she would have said something by now. A lot can change between now and June. By then she'll know for sure whether she got in or not, then we'll decide what happens to us. What am I going to do when she's not here anymore? What am I supposed to do when normal is over? What will I do when I don't have a warm pair of arms to come home to? Who will I talk to about all of these issues with my father? What will happen to my double life? I look at the ring on my finger, running my fingers along the smooth metal. I can be Chat Noir without Ladybug. Now that the akuma are gone I don't need anybody to cleanse them. But at the same time, it has always been Ladybug and Chat Noir. One can't exist without the other. And I don't want to be just one half of a dynamic duo running across the rooftops of Paris. Either there is a Ladybug, or I can no longer be Chat Noir.

My thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of my cell phone. I practically dive for the device, nearly rolling off my bed in the process.

"Hello?" I try to hide the urgency in my voice. She doesn't need to know that I've been waiting by the phone all day.

"Adrien." Her voice sounds so happy on the other end of the line, I take that as a good sign.

"Mari, how's London?" I ask, leaning back onto my pillow.

"It's so pretty here," She sounds as though she were completely in awe. "Even if it rained all day, it was so exciting to be somewhere new and different."

Her speech is filled with a longing that can only be described as wanderlust. She deserves so much more than just Paris and London, she deserves to see the world. Maybe one day she will, travel the world and see everything, go everywhere.

"I'm glad." I tell her. "Tell me about the meeting.""Okay, so I walked into this hall," She starts, sounding so confident and lively. She sounds so beautiful like this. "And there were these four professors sitting at a long table. They honestly looked like the most cutthroat English people ever, they didn't smile or show any emotions whatsoever. I honestly felt so uncomfortable standing there for the first few minutes."

"Okay, so I walked into this hall," She starts, sounding so confident and lively. She sounds so beautiful like this. "And there were these four professors sitting at a long table. They honestly looked like the most cutthroat English people ever, they didn't smile or show any emotions whatsoever. I honestly felt so uncomfortable standing there for the first few minutes."

She giggles a bit, a cheery noise that makes my heart flutter.

"But then, I introduce myself," She continues. "And I start with my portfolio, one of the professors started asking me questions about my designs," She pauses for a moment. "When I started talking about my designs I suddenly felt so much more comfortable, like I had all of this new confidence. It was kind of terrifying at first, but at the end I felt like I was exactly where I belonged."

That's my girl. That's my Ladybug.

"So you think everything went well?" I inquire.

"I don't want to jinx anything." She sounds like she's trying to contain her excitement. "But I think that I might get some good news."

"That's wonderful." I can't help but gush.

I'm so proud of her, of how far she's come. Even if I don't want her to leave, that doesn't change the fact that she's come a long way, and she's gained a lot of confidence. I couldn't be happier for her.

"Enough about me," She speaks loudly over the sounds of midday traffic in the background. "How are you doing?"

"I've got a photo shoot today," I groan. "First one since the nose healed."

"How do you feel about it?" She asks.

"Honestly," I admit. "I haven't had a shoot in a month, and it was without a doubt the best month of my entire life."

"And now?" She inquires.

"And now," I continue, trying my best not to sound like a whiner. "I'm going to have to stand in front of a camera for a few hours and fake a smile while holding the most uncomfortable pose imaginable."

"No way of getting out of it?" She sounds so sympathetic. I'm glad that she asks questions, it shows that she cares.

"Father is going to keep me in the modelling business as long as he can." I reply with an annoyed eye roll. "It's not like he'd ever listen to what I want."

Marinette pauses on the other line. "Maybe you should make him listen."

There is this dead serious tone in her voice that takes away any indication that she might be joking.

"You've still got that acceptance letter," She reminds me. "And I'm willing to bet that you have not told your father about it."

She's right. The letter has been lying open on my desk next to the computer for a while. I keep looking at it, trying to gather the courage to show it to my father. I know that he wants me to take a year off, so that I can continue modelling without any distractions. I know that I should tell him, but I'd rather put off facing his wrath for as long as I can. Also because I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't let me go to university.

"I want you to go after what you want," She tells me. "I want you to be happy."

"I just need you to be happy." I hear the words come out of my mouth before I realize that I've said them.

I can practically hear Marinette blushing through the phone. She lets a tiny snicker fall from her lips, and I wish that I was there to see her smile. But I'm not, so all I can do is imagine her face in my mind. Her pink lips, her adorable dimples, her freckles. I wish she were here, or I was there. Just us, together.

A knock on my bedroom door interrupts my thoughts.

"Adrien?" I hear Nathalie's voice call me through the door. "It's time to leave."

I bring the phone down from my ear and stare at the closed door.

"Be there in a minute." I shout back.

I wait for the clicking of her heels to disappear before bringing the phone back up to my ear.

"I've got to go." I tell her. "Those smiles aren't going to fake themselves."

I mean it as a joke, but I can hear Marinette sigh through the phone.

"Well, how about I give you something to look forward to?" She suggests.

"What did you have in mind?" I ask, increasingly more intrigued.

"Remember last night?" She tries making her voice lower, more sultry.

"How could I forget?" All of the blood in my body seems to rush to my cheeks as I recall the memory. How beautiful she looked when I was holding her in my arms.

"I was thinking," She starts. "We could do that again, we could even try a few new things if you'd like."

I nearly choke right there, the denim of my jeans feeling even tighter than it did before. A thousand possibilities fill my mind, all of the new places we could explore, all the new things we could try. God, this girl drives me wild.

"What kind of new things?" I finally manage to get the words out.

"I'm sure that you can use your imagination." Fuck, that voice is sexy. "I should go, don't want to keep your photographer waiting."

"Y-yeah," I stutter, I hear her adorable giggling once again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow." She chuckles.

"I love you." I add, pouring every ounce of longing that I feel into those words.

"I love you, too." She replies. I imagine the biggest smile on her face as she speaks. "See you soon."

There are two beeps that signal the end of the call, and then I'm alone again. I collapse back onto my bed, the sheets are cold and I am painfully aware of her absence, of how far away she is. I want to sink into my sheets, fall asleep, and dream about her. I want to feel her in my arms, kiss her, hold her. I want to kiss her soft skin, touch every curve of her body. It's a fantasy that I want to lose myself in forever.

"Adrien!" Nathalie's voice is cross this time. "Are you coming?"

I force myself up from my mattress and sigh.

"Yeah!" I respond, grudgingly opening the door. "I'm on my way."

* * *

 **And done! This took longer than expected, sorry.**

 **Also, in response to Rachel's review: If you want to post fanfics you need an account. I didn't actually make this account, but I'm pretty sure that all you have to do is sign up with your email and create a password. Message me when you do create an account and I can walk you through the process of posting stuff. Thank you for reviewing!**

 **Keep on reading!**


	21. Say You're Happy

Say You're Happy

 **This is another chapter of flashback. I did not want to throw off the balance of present and flashback chapters but then I realized that I made a mistake while planning this story and I didn't want to post the fight after Adrien apologizes, that wouldn't make sense. So you guys get another chapter of flashback. This chapter and the next one took the longest to write.**

 **Just a warning, there's some implied sexual stuff, but really it's not explicit...**

 **I hope you like it!**

* * *

-Marinette-

The next few weeks seem to blur together in a dizzy haze. I've been anxious, anxious and impatient. While my friends and schoolmates are receiving letter after letter in the mail, chatting excitedly about where they're going next year, I haven't heard so much as a maybe. It's stressful, not knowing where you'll be for four years. Knowing that something as simple as a letter is going to define your entire existence. I haven't been able to sleep lately. Instead of drifting off in the comfort of a warm blanket I can only lay awake and stare blankly at the ceiling. I toss and turn, but I'm just too restless to sleep. I shake uncontrollably when I think about my future, it's like this big looming beast that is about to swallow me whole at any given moment. I can't seem to lay my head down on my pillow without some terrifying thought creeping it's way into my mind. I tried everything that I could think of to sleep soundly again, hot baths, herbal tea, calm music, nothing worked. I spend my nights in front of the harsh glow of a computer screen, refreshing my email every five minutes. It takes all of the makeup in the world to hide the black circles that have found a home under my eyes. I haven't had a decent sleep in a few days. At first, it was just stress, now it's paranoia.

"Marinette, please sleep." Tikki begs as I take a sip of warm tea from my favourite mug. It's a red and black Ladybug mug that I got myself as a joke, maybe I should get Adrien a Chat Noir mug.

"I can't," I whisper. "Every time I close my eyes, I just can't relax."

"What do you propose we do then?" She whispers, nuzzling into my hair.

"Can we go out for a bit?" I ask, placing my mug on my desk and closing the browser. "I need some air."

I bathe in the warm glow of transformation as my tissue paper soft pajamas turn into a red and black bodysuit. The change is as natural as walking or breathing, it may as well be part of human nature to me. It makes me sad to think about how I might have to take a break from being Ladybug, at least while I'm in England. It would be too suspicious if Ladybug appeared in England right after I left Paris. I won't be able to soar across rooftops when I'm upset, or stop crime on a daily basis. I won't see Chat, I'll be separated from Adrien. That's what hurts the most.

The night air is gradually becoming hotter, more humid. The sun is shining more often, and the world is preparing itself for beautiful summer weather. The sky is an inky indigo colour, a blanket of stars covers the midnight sky. The moon hangs low in the sky, a large full moon bathing the world in it's calming blue glow. It's a beautiful night for stargazing, for looking up at the heavens, thinking about nothing and everything. I don't want to think right now. I vault across the rooftops and along the river where the water rushes and laps gently against the docks. The boats in the harbour bob up and down with the waves, an oddly calming sight. I continue on my journey, running and jumping across the rooftops. Nothing but a shadow, a phantom, a bump in the night. Then I will vanish into nothingness, like the smoke of a burning fire, slowly fizzling out.

It's around midnight when I reach a rooftop so familiar to me that it might as well be my own. Skillfully avoiding the security cameras that line the outside of the mansion, I carefully lower myself down to the window. He's awake, I can see him sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. The light from the monitor illuminates his entire face, and his bare chest. He sleeps without a shirt on, I had forgotten that piece of information. My cheeks feel hot again and I can't bring myself to tear my gaze away from the boy. Knock on the window, dammit, you look like a creeper. I take a deep breath and tap on the cool glass, the sound my knuckle makes radiating through the room. His head jerks up in surprise, his green eyes blown wide. He squints for a moment before his face shifts into a calm smile. He pushes himself out of the chair and hurries over to the window, practically throwing it open. I slip inside and I'm immediately enveloped in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" He mumbles, my face is nuzzled against his bare chest.

He smells like sweat and musky body spray. That intoxicating scent that pulls me into him, makes me want him. His arms are around my waist, his nose is nuzzled into the top of my head, I can feel his slow breaths against my scalp. My face is smushed against his chest, his skin is soft, but his muscles are firm.

"I couldn't sleep," I admit. "I needed human contact."

He leans down and kisses my forehead, then my cheek. He pulls away slightly, just enough that he can look me in the eyes and still hold me closely.

"Is everything alright?" He inquires, giving me a small smile.

I run my fingers through his tousled blonde locks. His hair is soft, like touching feathers beneath my skin, and I can't seem to bring myself to stop messing up his perfect hair. I pull him into me, kissing him hard on the mouth, his lips are captivating, they cast a spell over me and make my knees quake. His hands slowly travel from my waist downward, and without breaking our kiss he scoops me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms wrapping around his neck as I bring our bodies closer together. A minute later I release my transformation, the glow of light nearly blinding the both of us as I change from Ladybug back to Marinette. He smiles when he sees my face, my real face. He kisses me harder, our lips attacking one another, battling for control. I know that I should talk to him about my problems, but he's touching me in all the right places. I know he wants me, and he knows that I want him too. So I let myself get lost in him, I let myself forget.

It's over too quickly. And soon we're lying next to each other in his bed, our bare bodies covered in a layer of sweat. He holds me close to him, his body is warm and his heart is racing, his chest rises up and down as he calms his breathing. That was definitely more intense than the other times we've done it. He kisses my cheek as he spoons me, his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me to his chest. I turn around to face him, he wears a loving, protective smile on his face as he embraces me. I bury my face into his chest, shutting my eyes tightly as I try to memorize every line and curve of his body, try to imprint his scent in my mind.

"Mari?" He tilts my face up to meet his, his eyes are filled with concern.

It takes everything in me not to burst into tears at that very moment.

"I'm going to miss you." I whisper.

He pulls me in again, his heartbeat is a comforting song that brings me back to Earth. I bury my face is his chest again, his warm skin smells like pine trees on a mountain. He's amazing, he always has been, that's why I love him.

"I say that and I don't even know if I'll get in or not," I whimper, biting my lip to hold back the tears. "What if I don't get in?"

He kisses my head, his strong arms tighten their embrace around me. The heat of his body reminds me that I'm safe, and warm, and loved. I bring my face up to his, and he looks at me intensely in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. He isn't smiling anymore, yet he doesn't look upset or apprehensive, he simply keeps his gaze on me. He brings his hand up to caress my cheek, his fingers linger just above my lips. I stare at him, wondering what is going through his mind. His lips part ever so slightly, he lets out a small breath. I hug him just a bit tighter, bringing my face closer to his. I close my eyes and listen to him breathe for a minute, an odd little thing to do, and yet it brings me peace. If only I could fall asleep like this every night. Spend eternity in his arms.

"Then don't go." I barely hear the words as they fall out of his mouth. "Would it really be so bad to stay if you don't get in?"

My eyes immediately fly open. Did he just say that? I let go of him, pulling away slowly. I take a quick peek at his face, he looks suddenly panicked. His eyes suddenly go wide and I can feel his entire body getting tense. He doesn't want me to leave. He doesn't want me to do something that I've always wanted to do.

"You don't want me to go?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbow.

Adrien runs his fingers through his hair, pushing his blonde locks away from his face.

"I meant, uh," He stutters. "Fuck, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" I ask, slowly sitting up in his bed, holding the comforter over my bare chest.

"I just think that you should keep your options open." Adrien replies, he groans loudly. "That didn't come out the way I wanted to."

He sits up and reaches out to touch me, I shift on his mattress so that I'm just out of his reach. I should keep my options open? I am. It's not like I haven't applied anywhere else. It's not like I haven't already been accepted to other programs.

"I mean, so what if you don't get in?" He attempts to backpedal. "If you want I'm sure that my father can write a recommendation letter to his old university."

Is he serious? Why in the fuck would I ever let him do that?

"I can manage on my own, thank you very fucking much." I spit.

I push the comforter off of my body and slip out of his bed. Where the fuck are my pants?

"Wait, Mari." His hand is on my shoulder before I can turn around.

"What is this really about?" I ask without looking at him.

He sighs and gently turns me around, but I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. I cross my arms across my chest, half because I'm frustrated and half to cover my breasts. He lifts my chin up to his face, forcing me to look at him, his eyes filled with remorse.

"I just didn't want you to leave me." He confesses.

"Then why didn't you just say that?" I practically yell.

I feel my blood begin to boil in my veins and I turn away from him. I can feel my entire body begin to shake as I pick my discarded clothes up off the floor. My jaw clenches tightly and I feel an odd, stinging pain in my chest. I can't decide whether I'm angry, frustrated, or sad. Why would I leave him? I've been waiting four years just to get with him and now that I have I am not going to let a little bit of distance come between us. It's only two hours by train, it isn't that far away if one really thinks about it.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were feeling this way?" I sneer just loud enough to let him know how I'm feeling. "Do you not trust me?"

"I trust you." He raises his voice slightly and takes a few hesitant steps towards me.

"Then why the fuck didn't you say something?" I can feel the anger in me beginning to bubble up and boil, my hands clench into tight fists. I can feel my face turning bright red.

My anger turned into a fiery rage, my nose crinkled, my brow creased, my eyes narrowed at the boy who seemed to tower over me. I wanted to scream, loudly, I wanted to smash the windows and wake up the entire city. This was different from the mere frustration that I had felt before. This was pure, raw, anger. Because no matter what I was feeling, nothing could have prepared me for what he said next.

"I didn't think you'd get in!"

* * *

-Adrien-

My hand immediately flew to my mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? I want to take it back. I want to comfort her, I want to tell her that I didn't mean it. That I love her and I believe in her. But all I can do is watch, frozen as her face contorts into something truly heart wrenching. Her entire body becomes tense, her knuckles turn white, and I can practically see the veins sticking out of her neck. She stares at me, her face turning bright red, as the silence creates a divide between the two of us. I open my mouth to say something, but she beats me to it.

"What do you mean you didn't think I'd get in?" She hardly cares that there are other people in my house, she's screaming.

I can just barely see tears begin to pool in her eyes in the dark room, as the only light is that of the moon streaming through the open window. I can hear her breathing quickly becoming sporadic as she tries to gather her thoughts. She runs her fingers through her hair, which is bedraggled and falling out of its hair ties. She turns away from me as the tears begin to fall out of her eyes and dampen her beautiful face.

"I just thought-" I try to put a sentence together.

"You thought what?" She interrupts.

"I thought," I take a breath. "It's just a hard program to get into and-"

I take another breath, awkwardly shifting my weight from my left to my right. Marinette crosses her arms and rolls her eyes before turning to look at me again. I deserve every hateful look that I receive.

"I thought that a month ago," I tell her. "But now I don't have any doubts, you're a great designer."

I take a step towards her, and she takes a step back. Of course, she doesn't want to listen to me right now, not after all that bullshit that I just spewed. Ugh! Stupid, stupid, stupid! She walks to the other side of the room and picks up her shirt from the floor, pulling the wrinkled mess of fabric on over her head. Then she slips into her pants, giving me one last disgusted look.

"Obviously you don't think I'm good enough." She spits, her voice coming between short breaths.

I made her feel this way. Fuck. I suddenly felt choked up, my vision became blurry and I struggled to breathe. I felt an intense pain in my chest as my heart rate increased, my lungs felt like rubber bands that would collapse at any moment. My head began to pound as the world became a dizzy haze, I felt like I had to sit down, I was afraid that I might faint. My stomach groaned in pain as a wave of nausea passed over me, everything that I had eaten in the last twenty-four hours threatened to make a reappearance on my bedroom floor. I felt the tears beginning to pool and swim in my eyes. I blinked a few times, my vision became clear again as fresh tears made their way down my face.

"Mari." I could barely get her name out.

She turns away again, wiping the tears from her face once again.

"Don't follow me," She seethes lividly, she sounds choked and heartbroken. "Don't call me, don't come into the bakery, don't even look at me. Just leave me alone!"

Before I can go after her, before I can open my mouth to speak, before I can apologize, she's gone. The flash of pink light nearly blinded me as she jumped out of the window and went off into the night. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe. I didn't even feel my legs give way beneath me, nor did I feel myself hitting the floor, I didn't hear the monstrous scream that escaped my lips. I didn't feel the tears as they fell uncontrollably down my face. I fucked up. I more than fucked up. I may as well have told her that her dreams were pointless. I basically told Marinette that I didn't believe in her, which wasn't the truth. I more than believed in her, I supported her. Why did I have to be selfish and screw everything up? Why did I tell her not to leave? Why did I even open my damn mouth in the first place? I should have held her close and told her that everything would work out, that she would get into the program that she wanted, that she would be successful in everything that she did. Why did I have to screw everything up?

Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I drive people away with my stupid selfish attitude. Did I drive my mother away in the same way that I drove away Marinette? Had they both left because of me? This is my fault. Everything, my whole fucked up life is entirely my fucking fault. I drive people away, I say stupid things that I don't mean. I'm selfish. Maybe I should just cut out my own damn tongue. Maybe I'm just everyone's problem. Maybe it would be in everyone's best interest if I just disappeared. I'm completely hopeless. I feel like there is this huge gaping hole in my chest where my heart should be, I feel powerless and empty.

"I don't know what to do." I sobbed into my hands, muffled noises emitting from my lips as I cried.

"Give her some time to calm down." I heard Plagg's voice as he took a seat on my shoulder. His voice was comforting to me, especially in a time like this.

"I fucked up." The words came out as a mere whimper. "I don't know what I was saying, words just kept coming out of my mouth and I- I hurt her."

I never wanted to hurt her, and I did that anyway. I really am the incarnation of bad luck. I begin to hyperventilate again, but this time I don't bother to wipe the tears that fall, nor do I try to calm my breathing. I need to let this out. I need to scream my head off for a few minutes so that I can work on building myself back up. My entire body shakes as I scream into my pillow, loudly. I silently pray that father doesn't hear me.

"You were upset," Plagg whispers, stroking my hair in a comforting way. "People say stupid things when they're upset. Plus, you are both under a lot of stress, about to graduate and go away to school. This is a confusing time. I don't blame either of you for this argument. Just give Marinette some space for the time being, she will come back when she's ready."

"How long do you think that will take?" I know that I sound impatient, but it's taking every ounce of willpower in me not to transform, run to her house, and beg for her forgiveness.

"Might be a week, might be a month," Plagg replies. I look at him with wide, horrified, eyes. Marinette could go months without speaking to me. "Girls hold really long grudges, I'm pretty sure that Tikki is still mad at me for forgetting her birthday."

"You and Tikki are twins." I remind him.

"Your point?" He asks nonchalantly.

I lay back on my bed, burying my nose into the pillows. They smell just like her. They smell like Marinette. I bite my lip hard to prevent the tears from making a reappearance on my face, the taste of blood begins to fill my mouth. Marinette might not talk to me for weeks, maybe even months, because of our argument. Fuck, I really did screw everything up. I screwed up our entire relationship, everything that we had together. I ruined Ladybug and Chat Noir. I ruined us. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as tears threatened to pool in my eyes again. Marinette's lingering scent on my pillow was the harshest of reminders. There was no us.

Not anymore.

* * *

 **Angst and tears for years. Is that I thing? Can I make it a thing?**

 **Anyways, this took forever and a day to write because I was afraid the scene would be disappointing. I was really hoping that it wasn't bad or cliched. I hope that it's not disappointing, I hope that you guys liked it. The next chapter will be (finally!) Adrien visiting Marinette in the hospital.**

 **Keep on reading!**


	22. Say I Love You

Say I Love You

 **This chapter took a stupidly long amount of time to write. I had no idea what to write and I spent a lot of time just writing whatever and erasing it before posting this. I think this chapter took the longest to write out of all of them. Just because this is the thing that I've been building towards for 21 whole chapters and I was terrified to post it. Sigh, I hope that you guys like it.**

* * *

-Marinette-

When I first became Ladybug, there were people who were against me. There were many people, even now, who think that Paris would be better off without heroes. Even with all the good that Chat Noir and I have done, people were still skeptical about the two of us. But not my parents. They loved Ladybug. They would talk about her all of the time, how heroic and honourable she was. I wonder what they would have said if I had told them. Would they be proud of all the good that I've accomplished at such a young age? Or would they tell me to stop because they worried for my safety? Being a hero was no easy task, I always knew that it was going to be hard. And I was so willing to take on the task, no matter how hard it got. I think that the hardest part was that I knew that I could never tell them. I hated lying to them, but it was something that I had to do. But there were moments when I wish that I had told them the truth. There were times when I was grounded because my grades were slipping or I was absent from class. I wish that I could have explained it to them, so that they would have understood. I wish that I had told them about being Ladybug, maybe I would have if I had more time. If only we all had more time.

Time. That's a funny concept. Seconds tick by, people grow, they wither, seasons pass, things change. People are always talking about finding time, or having time, or no time. But time is a concept, a thing. It only exists in our minds. It doesn't really matter how much time you are given, it is what you make of that time that is important. I have done amazing things. I have seen things that most people can only dream of. I've saved lives, I saved an entire city, possibly the world too. I have done more in seventeen years than most people do in seventy. Maybe, given the chance, I could do more. But that seems unlikely now. What can I do now? Now that I'm no longer needed, what is my purpose? Maybe I've already served that purpose. Paris is safe now. And Adrien is still here. He can continue the fight if he wants to. But maybe I want to stop fighting.

I sat alone for a long time. Enough time to drive a person mad. I watched the nurses and doctors as they rushed from place to place. I observed the visitors as they wandered around the busy hallways. Watching them made me feel depressed. If I screamed, they wouldn't be able to hear me. They wouldn't see me if I walked passed, they wouldn't even be aware of my presence. It saddens me, to walk among the living, but not be entirely there. I am alive, but I am not living. I can walk, and speak, I swear it. But I might not for much longer. Being surrounded by people is heartbreaking. I can not do what they do, not anymore. I am only a shell of what used to be. Do they know how lucky they are? They're still breathing, still living while I'm attached to a machine that forces air in and out of my lungs. Breathing, walking, living, I may never have that again. Nobody smiles. Why would you smile when you're surrounded by comatose patients? I think about my friends and family when they visited me yesterday. The tears in their eyes, the heartbroken looks on their faces. It pains me that I couldn't console them. I can't talk to them, I can't let them know that I'm okay. I wish that I could explain it to them. I wish that I could ask them for advice. At this point, I know that I'm just putting off the inevitable. I sit down on my cot, next to my sleeping frame, listening to the rhythmic beating of my heart. Why was I doing this? Why was I torturing myself, sitting here in this lonely room? It would be better if I left now. It would be better if I joined my parents. At least we would all be together. I just wish that there was a way that I could say goodbye to Tikki. My kwami, my advice giver, my friend. She was always there for me when I needed her. But ultimately, I had to make all of the important decisions on my own. She would understand. She would be proud of me.

Just close your eyes Marinette. Don't be afraid. Let yourself fade away.

I suddenly feel a tingling feeling course throughout my entire body. I didn't feel scared so much as sad. Dying isn't scary, dying is sad. But at the same time, there was a weird sense of peace about it. The world around me faded. There was no noise, no colour, or feeling. There was nothing.

"Marinette." I heard someone whisper.

The voice was so achingly familiar. A voice that could sing me to sleep peacefully. A voice that invoked memories of happiness and security. For a moment, I hoped it was my parents. I had hoped that I had found them again. I had been lost for so long, I hoped that I wasn't alone anymore. I hoped that there was a warm pair of arms that I could run to, that I could lose myself in forever. But there wasn't. The world began to move in slow motion, seconds ticked by that felt like years. I wasn't sure what I should do. There was nothing that I could do. The voice called to me again. The voice that brought back images of blonde hair and green eyes. A voice that followed me, that haunted me. It couldn't be.

My eyes shot open. And there he was.

He was sitting by my bed, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand, looking down at my unconscious body. Tears filled those iridescent eyes, his mouth curved into a frown. It was heartbreaking, seeing him look this sad. I felt a pang in my chest as I watched him. I felt the same overwhelming wave of affection for him that I always had. Every beautiful memory that I had of him suddenly rushed back to me all at once. Every smile, every glance, every all night conversation. Everything about our time together was perfect, and I didn't regret a single moment. I loved him. It was a truth, the stars were in the sky, the world revolved around the sun, and I loved Adrien. Now I can confidently say that I loved him until my dying breath. And now he was going to say goodbye to me. And I would have to say goodbye to him. Maybe this was all I needed in order to move on to whatever is next. Closure with him. I hope that he knows that I am sorry. I should have asked him how he was feeling, I should have reassured him when it came to our future. I should have done so many things differently. But that was the past, and I couldn't change that. I hope that he knows I love him and that nothing, not even death, was going to change that.

"Hi." I breathe. I wish that he could hear my voice, feel my touch. I wish to give him comfort, to love him and tell him that everything is okay.

I wish that he could hear my voice, feel my touch. I wish I could give him comfort. I wish to love him and tell him that everything is okay.

"Marinette." Chimes a second voice, a voice that belongs to Tikki.

She flutters and floats over my body, the tiny little sprite that has watched over me so lovingly for the last few years. I am grateful to her for all that she's done for me, I wish that there was something I could do to thank her. She spins in mid-air and stops. I swear she looked me in the eye. Can she see me? Can she hear me?

"Tikki?" I try, but the kwami doesn't react.

"Is everything alright?" I hear a third voice, this one belongs to Adrien's kwami.

"I can sense her." Tikki explains. "Her spirit is here, she's listening."

Adrien looks up at the kwami, a hopeful look crossing his face. He looks around the room, as though searching for a sign. A sign that I couldn't give him. He just had to trust that I was here. That I could hear him. He needs to know that he could say everything that he wants to say.

"She is?" He inquires.

Tikki nods confidently. I watch the tears as they spill from Adrien's eyes, and I wish that I could wipe them away. The thought of him sad makes my heart ache in my chest, and I wish that I could kiss all of his pain away. I wish that I could hold him until the pain stops. I wish that he never had to feel this pain, ever. But there's nothing that I can do now that I'm gone. He's going to have to learn to breathe without me now, learn to walk without me by his side. I just hope that he lives a good life, that he's happy, and that one day he'll learn to love again.

"Hi Marinette," The little red kwami starts. "I know everything is hard right now, but you'll make the right choice. I love you and I'm very proud of you."

She dips down and kisses my forehead lightly. I can feel the tiniest bit of pressure on my forehead as she does, as though I can feel her affection. Warmth flows throughout my body, and I feel the same love and comfort that I thought I had lost.

"Now, Plagg and I are going to give you two some privacy." She tells me with a reassuring smile.

And then Adrien and I are alone. He takes a deep breath and sets the pink roses down on the bedside table, right next to the yellow lilies that I received yesterday. Adrien looks nervous, his entire body shakes uneasily and he rubs his hands together awkwardly. He looks as though he wants so desperately to say something, but the words get lost in his throat. His entire face is pale, completely devoid of any colour. There are large black circles under his eyes, as though he hasn't slept. As disorderly as his state is, he still looks like the gorgeous model that graces the cover of magazines. He sits by my bed, slowly taking one of my limp hands in his. I can feel him gently squeezing my hand, I can feel how soft his skin is and how warm he feels. My heart beats a little faster after that, the heart monitor beeps to indicate the slight rise in heart rate. Adrien looks up at the monitor for a second, he presses his lips together before looking back down at my body.

"Marinette," He whispers, his voice cracks slightly. "Princess. My Lady."

He's choking on the words, his voice just barely audible as he speaks. My heart shatters in my chest right there. Watching him, so broken, it's the worst feeling in the world. To see someone as talented, intelligent, and kind, and ambitious as him so brokenhearted. I never wanted him to feel this way, ever. I wanted to see the smile on his face one last time. But I know that it's unrealistic, it's only a dying girl's wish. I wish that I could let him know that everything is okay. I wish that I could kiss him until all of his problems just melt away. I wish that I could reassure him, tell him about the beautiful life that he's going to have in the future. But I can't. I have to settle for simply watching over him from a distance.

"I can't even begin to tell you how stupid I've been." He tells me, his thumb moving in slow circles around my wrist. "I was selfish, and I was so terrified of losing you forever."

I want to tell him that it wasn't his fault. I should have talked to him about this. I should have told him that everything would be okay. That we would figure this long distance relationship thing out. But I didn't. We didn't talk about his emotions, I didn't ask how he was feeling. I let everything stay bottled up until it exploded. This was my fault too.

"Marinette, don't leave." He continued, tears still spilling from his eyes. "Please stay."

"I can't." I tell him.

The words are torture on my tongue, but they are the truth. I wish that I had the will to stay, but I feel so hopeless. Even if I stay, nothing will ever be normal again. There is nothing left for me here. I have no family, I have nobody to turn to. Everyone else will move on and forget about me, even Adrien, as horrible as the thought is.

"Please," Adrien pleads, squeezing my hand tighter. "I need you."

Oh, Adrien. I feel the tears beginning to prick in my eyes and fall down my face, I can't bring myself to wipe them away. Adrien bites his lower lip and takes a deep breath. He looks at me, a clear look of determination in his eyes.

"I went to your house last night as Chat Noir," He confessed. My eyes widened slightly, I always did forget to lock that hatch. "I broke into your house, and I read your emails, which is completely illegal. So sorry about that."

He read my what? I should have been mad, but I couldn't bring myself to be angry with him. I watch curiously as he pulls a piece of paper from his knapsack. I don't know if it's merely my tired eyes playing tricks on me, but I swear I see the tiniest flicker of a smile appear on his face before immediately fading away.

"Dear Marinette Dupain-Cheng," He starts reading, but I can tell by the confidence in his voice that he has the letter memorised. "The admissions council at Central Saint Martins is pleased to inform you of your acceptance-"

What? I swear my breathing stops after he reads those words. I got in? I got into Central Saint Martins? I'm astonished, to say the least. I've been accepted to the most prestigious fashion program in the world. And my parents aren't here to share this moment with me. If my life were still normal, I would have read that email earlier this morning. I would have run down the stairs, joyful tears filling my eyes, and told Mama and Papa of my good news. They would have hugged me tightly, told me how proud they were of me, how I was going to do amazing things. Amazing things that were never meant to be.

"Marinette," Adrien's calm voice brings me back to reality. "Stay. Go to this school. Do something extraordinary, because I know that you are capable of doing something amazing."

I got in. I got into my dream school. I can go to school in London. I can become a fashion designer. I can do the things that I've always wanted to do. But could I really turn my back on my parents? Could I really stay without them? I look at Adrien, he carefully brings my limp hand up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on my skin. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, but I can not tell if it is out of pleasure or sadness.

"Adrien." I whisper.

"Please," He says the word over and over again, his voice choked as tears run down his face. He stutters and shakes, the words coming out breathlessly from his lips. "I'm here, and I'm in love with you. God, I love you so damn much. I want you to get everything you've ever wanted."

He's rambling through his tears. The scene makes my heart feel heavy in my chest. He can't see me, he can't feel me. And yet I reach out, I place my hand on his cheek. I don't feel him, and I know that he can't feel me, but it's the only comfort that I can offer him right now. The only thing that I can give to him now.

I feel a tingling sensation completely cover my body and my heart beats a little faster. I can feel myself slipping, can feel myself fading away. Adrien's face becomes blurry and distorted as black spots begin to cloud my vision. I am unsure of what is happening, but I feel uplifted in a sense. I can hear Adrien breathing, I can feel his tight grip on my hand. If this is is the end, and these are my last words, then I want them to be meaningful.

"I love you too." I whisper.

* * *

-Adrien-

I can't stop my body from shaking uncontrollably as I sit by her bed. I don't think that my heart has ever beat this fast in my entire life. I can't breathe, I can't force air into my lungs. The little air that I can manage comes out in choked gasps. Seeing her like this is so much worse than I could have ever imagined. Seeing her so helpless, knowing that there was nothing that I could do for her. There were so many things that I had to say to her. So many things that I wanted to get out. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for being so selfish. I wanted to tell her that she deserved the whole world. And I wanted to tell her that I will love her until the day I die. But when I saw her, I could hardly form complete sentences. I just kept repeating the same word over and over again.

"Please."

Please come back to me. Please live. You have so much to live for. You deserve to go to the best school in the world. You deserve excellence. You are going to become something brilliant, fantastic even. Just open your eyes. I want you to be okay. I want you to be happy. I want to make you the happiest girl on Earth if you'll let me. I swear to you, Marinette as long as I'm living I'll devote myself to you. Everything is meaningless without you. Chat Noir is nothing without Ladybug. Mundane things like waking up in the morning and going to school are a grey useless void unless you're right beside me. I can't fathom a life without Marinette, and I don't want to. I want to tell her this. I want to tell her how much she means to me. A world without her would be an empty grey void, like a sky without stars. I want to tell her this and so much more, but I can only manage to get three words out of my mouth.

"I love you."

I repeat those words like a broken record. My entire body quakes with fear, my grip on her hand grows stronger. I will not let her slip away, not again. I can't lose her again. I will not lose her. Not when I can see a future for us. I close my eyes tightly, silently praying for her to return to me. I hope to one day hold her again, fall asleep in her arms and wake up with her every morning. I want to love her, forever. No, forever isn't long enough. She is the most precious thing in the entire world, and I need her to know that. Today, I vow to never leave her side. I will be here, I will stay here for her. Everything I do, it's all for her. I hope that she wakes up. I hope that she gets to go to her dream school. I hope that she gets everything that she has ever wanted. She deserves it.

I spend a long time listening to her heart beating on the monitor, the reminder that she is alive calms me. I can imagine her heart beating next to mine as we lay together, side by side. I can imagine her leaping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging over the city we worked so hard to protect. The angel who showed me that I could choose what I wanted to do in life, and that others can't choose my life for me. That if I want something, I should take it. Marinette brought light into my life, she freed me from the hell I was living in and showed me love. Love was worth fighting for. Love was worth dying for. A love like ours was too great to lose.

How long had I been here? Crying by her bedside, whispering the same three words over and over like a madman? How long had I been holding her hand? Hours? Days? I've completely lost track of time. My hand grips hers tighter, as though if I held on long enough she would return to me. I feel empty, empty and dizzy. Like there's this void in my chest, a hole that will never be filled. If she's gone, so is a part of my very soul. She needs to wake up. She has to. I can't live without her. I don't want to even entertain the idea of living without her.

My heart skips a beat when I feel pressure around my hand, a grip almost as strong as mine. My eyes shoot open, and I'm so surprised that I almost let her go. It happened so fast that I wasn't even sure if it was real. Was I imagining all of this? Was this merely a hallucination caused by sleep deprivation? My heart beats harder in my chest, my breath comes out only in gasps. Her hand twitches again, I'm sure that I felt it this time. I'm silent for a moment, waiting, hoping, praying.

Marinette twitches again, and this time I'm met with a sea of blue.

"Mari?"

* * *

 **I literally did not know what to write for Adrien's part. I wanted to portray just how much Marinette means to him and how he blames himself for everything and that he thinks that he could have somehow prevented all of this. I went through this draft so many times it's not even funny. I hope that it was worth it, I hope that you liked this.**

 **Yeah. One more chapter of this left. Hopefully, I finish writing it soon.**

 **Keep on Reading!**


	23. Say You'll Always Be Here

Say You'll Always Be Here

 **Sorry about the late chapter, I had to focus on school. I can't let my grades slip, or my computer will be taken away and I won't be able to write at all. I had a lot of homework right before the break, then I was busy with family stuff for the holidays, then I got sick. I'm still kinda sick right now.**

 **This chapter is the last, and it's sad. I am sorry, even I cried writing this. This chapter will start in Adrien's POV because I wanted to end with Marinette's POV. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

-Adrien-

I know that today is going to be a hard day. A hard day for me, for my friends, and for the city of Paris. I'm already dreading it as I button up my black dress shirt. I've never been to a funeral before. Or at least, none that I can remember. The world around me seems duller, as though all the colour and light in the world has vanished. It's like I'm seeing everything in black and white. I haven't been able to take my mind off of Marinette, or her parents, or what happened at the hospital.

It's been almost a week since Marinette was discharged from the hospital. I remember crying the moment she opened her eyes, I think I cried harder that day than I ever had in my entire life. I didn't get the chance to talk to her when she opened her eyes, once she woke up her doctors told me to leave immediately, that they had to run some tests on her. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to see her for the rest of the day, so I went home. I went home and shut myself in my room. The only contact I had with anyone was when I called Alya and Nino to tell them that Marinette had woken up. After that, I didn't leave my room. I didn't go back to the hospital to see Marinette when she was recovering, nor did I try to get in contact with her. I felt guilty about not going to see her, but Nino had told me that she was only letting Alya see her anyways. It made sense, she lost so much so abruptly, it was heartbreaking. I didn't have an excuse for not making an effort to talk to her for the last week. Marinette had opted not to return to the bakery where she grew up after she was discharged. Instead, she was staying with Alya and her family. She didn't want to go home just yet, she didn't want to be alone in an empty house. She didn't want to be reminded of who was no longer there.

This is the first time I've left the house since the day Marinette woke up. I didn't even go out as Chat Noir, I didn't have the motivation to do so. I hardly have the motivation to do anything anymore. I miss Marinette. I miss her so much that every mundane task I do without her by my side feels unbearable. I miss everything about her, her kindness, her sense of humour, her ambition. I miss how unique and special she is. I miss everything that made her Marinette. My life is dull without her. I don't know what I'll say when I see her today. I don't know if she wants to see or talk to me. But I'll try.

I barely make it two steps out of my bedroom when I notice my father, he seems almost stiff and his face is expressionless. He looks me over, a tight-lipped frown crossing his face.

"The funeral is today?" He inquired.

I nodded.

What he asked next truly surprised me. "Would you like some company?"

My eyes widened slightly and I silently wondered if he had offered for some kind of personal gain. My father had never shown interest in what was going on in my life. He never once checked in on me when I was hurting and he didn't even bother to ask me if Marinette was alright. He never cared then, why would he now? I was about to tell him off when I noticed something in his eyes, something painful and somber. I had only ever seen that look once before, when we found out that mom was gone. I had almost forgotten that he too knew the pain of losing the love of your life. I've been dreading this day for nearly two weeks, and it would be easier if I didn't go alone. I'm suddenly thankful that he offered.

I find myself smiling for the first time in what feels like forever. "Yes, I would."

The cold look on his face melts as we make our way to the car. It's a sunny day in Paris, but the sunshine doesn't feel as nice as it usually does. A majority of our journey is silent. I spend most of my time staring blankly out the window, watching the city go by in a blurry haze. There is a small moment of time when I can pretend that everything is fine. That the events of the last two weeks didn't happen. That everyone I know is alive and okay, and the entire world isn't crashing down around me. But reality is a hard thing to accept.

The sound of my father clearing his throat pulls me out of my thoughts. He looks at me and opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn't say anything. Then he sighs and looks down.

"I've been thinking about your schedule for the next year." He says slowly.

Here we go. Part of me wants to remind him that I'm going to be eighteen soon, that he doesn't control me anymore. I want to tell him that I can make my own decisions. But I don't get the chance to.

"We're going to have to cut back on a few things if you're going to be attending university in the fall." He continues.

Did he just say what I think he said?

"You're okay with me going?" I'm baffled and thrilled at the same time.

I was thoroughly convinced that he wouldn't let me do what I wanted until I was thirty.

"You're an adult," He replied. "I should treat you like one."

A small smile crosses my face. Freedom, I was going to get the freedom I always wanted. The freedom that I thought that I would only ever get as Chat Noir. And it's my father giving it to me.

"Thank you." I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

The rest of the ride is silent but comfortable, and in a matter of minutes we pull up in front of the funeral home. The funeral home is quiet and it smells like flowers. A man in a suit directs us to the correct room where two coffins are laid side by side, surrounded by arrangements of flowers. The caskets are open, and I have to pause in the doorway. It's jarring, seeing two people who were once so kind to me, so accepting and loving towards me, laying in caskets. I feel my father's hand on my shoulder, a comforting gesture. I allow myself to relax and take a deep breath. There are pictures everywhere. A smiling Sabine and Tom on their wedding day, younger versions of them in front of the bakery, them holding a newborn Marinette. They looked so happy. The room is filled with people I know, all dressed in black. My entire class is here, they sit together near the back, allowing Marinette's family members to sit near the front. Chloe is there with her father, she sends me a small smile, which I return. I recognize Marinette's aunt and her grandparents from the hospital, they stand by the caskets and greet guests. Then there's Alya and Nino, who are sitting in the front row next to her. Her head is down, she completely ignores the world around her, and I can tell she's trying to keep herself from crying. Alya rubs her back in small circles, trying to reassure her best friend. Hesitantly, I make my way towards the front of the room, towards her. That's when she looks up, and her eyes are just as blue as the first time I saw them. We look at one another for a few minutes, neither of say anything. Instead we wait, silently praying that the other says something. Say something, Mari, please.

But she doesn't. Instead she stands abruptly from her seat and throws her arms around me, squeezing me in the tightest hug that I've ever received. I was surprised for a moment. But then, carefully, as though afraid to break her, I wrap my arms around her as well. I haven't hugged her in so long. The feeling I get when I hug her is indescribable. I almost lost her forever. But I didn't, she's right here in my arms. And I love her with every fiber of my being. My eyes are misty with unshed tears, and I can feel moisture slowly beginning to seep through the fabric of my shirt as the girl in my arms begins to uncontrollably shake. I slowly rub her back, and after a minute she stops shaking. She pulls away hesitantly and quickly wipes the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you for coming." She whispers.

She takes her seat again and motions for me to take a seat as well. So I do. My father follows me, stopping to shake Marinette's hand and give her his condolences before taking his seat. The funeral starts a few minutes later. Passages from various scriptures are read and people give short speeches. When it's Marinette's turn to speak, her voice quakes and cracks, but that doesn't make her eulogy any less beautiful. And when she's finished, she slowly walks up to the two caskets. She carefully touches her mother's face and gently kisses her forehead, then does the same to her father. The last time she will ever touch them. The last time she will ever see them. She places something in both of the coffins, but I can't see what it is. Then she takes her seat again and takes Alya's hand, squeezing it tightly. Then the morticians begin to close the caskets, and I feel Marinette's hand suddenly grip mine. I squeeze her hand lightly, letting her know that I'm here for her, that I'll always be right here when she needs me. I allow the tears to flow down my face when the caskets are wheeled out of the room to be prepared for burial. I look at Marinette, it breaks me completely to see her crying. Then she stands and takes her leave, and I can only watch her fleeting figure as the heartbroken girl prepares to say her final goodbye.

As she leaves, my mind becomes flooded with all of the things I still need to say to her. She's mourning, I don't want to overwhelm her. This is the hardest day of her entire life. But I have to say it. I have to tell her. I need to let her know that I'm there for her.

I find her sitting on one of the benches in front of the funeral home, she's shaking again and I can hear her quietly sobbing. I can't help but feel like I'm intruding on her privacy, that I shouldn't be here. But she sounds so sad, I can't leave her.

"You can sit if you want." Her voice is so quiet that I'm unsure if I even heard her.

But then she turns to look at me, blue eyes filled with tears. And I find myself taking a seat beside her.

"Sorry for intruding," I apologize. "I got worried."

"No, it's okay," She gives me a small, reassuring smile before wiping her eyes. "I thought that I was ready for this day. But I don't think that anything could have prepared me for this."

I want to put my arm around her, but I don't know if she wants to be touched. So I give her the only other form of comfort I can think of.

"I'm here for you," I tell her confidently. "If you ever want to talk."

I couldn't possibly know what Marinette was going through. But I just wanted her to know that she wasn't alone, that I was here. And then she smiles at me, and that little gesture is more than enough.

"Thank you," She replied, resting her head on my shoulder.

Everything between us is quiet, the air is still as we sit side by side. I don't want to bring up our future, or our past. Especially not here. Not on the day she buries her parents.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

I raise an eyebrow at her quizzically. "For what?"

"For ignoring you after everything that happened." She sighs. "I should have talked to you, told you that no matter what happens, we'll always have each other."

"I'm the one who should apologize," I tell her. "After my mom abandoned me I was terrified of losing the one thing I loved. I should have known better."

The air between us goes silent and still, and neither of us are sure of what to say. Every feeling that we have ever felt for one another hovers in empty space. She was everything that I ever wanted, and the thought of losing her was more painful than when I lost my mother.

"I accepted the offer," Marinette breaks the silence. "I think I should get away from Paris for a while, figure everything out."

I nod. Just two months ago I was terrified of this, of losing her forever. But now I know that I am not saying goodbye. Just see you later.

"You're going to be brilliant." I tell her confidently.

She smiles at me, her face slightly flushed. I missed how cute she looked when flustered. Her smile is so unbelievably magnificent, and I feel the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss her. But I don't. I need to be what Marinette needs me to be. And right now she doesn't need a boyfriend, she needs a friend. And I will gladly be the shoulder she cries on.

"Are you going to be okay without me here for a while, Chaton?" She asks.

I smile at her. "I'm sure that I'll manage."

She stands up and mentally prepares herself to head back into the funeral home. But she stops and turns to me.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone," She reminds me. "Afterall, what's Chat Noir without Ladybug?"

Nothing. Chat Noir is nothing without Ladybug. Just like Adrien is nothing without Marinette.

"I should be going, we have to get to the cemetery." She remarks sadly. She takes a few deep breaths to prepare herself. "I'll see you later."

"I'll text you." I tell her.

I don't follow them to the cemetery, instead opting to go home with my father. I text Marinette first thing the next day. But I don't get a reply that day. Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

* * *

-Marinette-

The room looks almost like a prison cell. There are white cinderblock walls and only a single window. A blank canvas that I can make my own. The apartment building is reserved for students from schools all over London, only a short walk from Central Saint Martins. Outside my window, the sky is grey. It's a gloomy day in London and I can't help but become overcome with melancholy as I watch the dark clouds cross the sky. I am here. I'm alive. I had begun to believe that I would never make it here, and yet here I am. The boxes I'm carrying are heavy and my arms feel like noodles. I set them down on the floor and stretch, raising my arms above my head.

"Goddammit, what do you have in here, bricks?" I hear Alya exclaim.

I quickly take the box from her hands and place it on the desk.

"Careful, It's my sewing machine." I playfully scold her.

Alya sighs and plops down on the mattress lying on the floor. I don't have a bedframe yet, so I'll be sleeping on the floor for the time being.

"My everything hurts." She groans.

I take a break from unpacking and slide onto the mattress next to her. It was nice of her to help me move into my apartment. Alya has been so supportive of me the last few months. She let me stay in her home and helped me through the hardest summer of my life. Everything is still raw, my wounds haven't completely healed yet. But hopefully once I start classes, I'll be able to distract myself with my schoolwork. Everything happened so quickly and suddenly, I hardly had time to process it. The two people that I loved most in the whole world were gone, and I was alone. It took me a long time to do so much as fall asleep at night or eat food. I was completely unmotivated to do anything but sleep. These wounds will never fully heal, I know that. But I'm slowly healing, slowly.

"We only have two more boxes left in the car." I remind her, pulling her up to her feet.

She lets out a loud groan. Two boxes left. And then we're done. And then Alya will go back to France. And I'll be alone. I don't think that I'm fully prepared for that. But she has to go. She has classes tomorrow and a life to get back to. Two boxes. She takes one, I take the other. We're silent until we're back in the room. It was not an easy task, just the two of us rearranging furniture and hauling boxes into the room where I will spend the next four years.

"We should have asked the boys to help us," Alya whines, putting the final box down in my room. "We could have been done much sooner and we'd have been able to explore the city."

I know that she's right. But for the last few months, I haven't been able to speak to anyone besides Alya. I spent my time in Alya's room, which may as well be my own now. I didn't say anything to Nino when he would visit, I didn't answer calls from any of my classmates. Adrien texted me every day, mostly just to ask me how I was feeling. It was sweet of him, but I was too depressed to reply. I had completely isolated myself. I didn't mean to, but I was sad. I was having constant panic attacks and it was weeks before I could even think about eating again. I lost almost fifteen pounds, I was crying every night, it wasn't healthy. I had completely forgotten how I was supposed to live. I know that it's going to be a long time before I feel okay again.

As for my friends, I feel bad for ignoring them. They just wanted to help me and I pushed them away. Especially Adrien, he's been nothing but kind to me despite everything that's happened between us. And I haven't spoken to him since the funeral. I should have talked to him before leaving, but I needed time. I guess I'll see him when I go home for Christmas. If I go home for Christmas. But I don't want to think about the future right now. Or the past. I want to focus on the now. I feel scared. My entire life is different now. And I don't know what to do. On top of my classwork, I've also got to find a job. And I'm basically paying the rent on my own. It's all overwhelming. I'm quiet because I don't want to cry in front of Alya. I don't want her to worry about me on the train ride back to Paris. I'll be alright. I just need time.

"Are you going to be okay here?" She finally asks.

I don't want to lie to her, but I know that if I don't she's going to make up some excuse to stay with me. But she can't, she has class tomorrow. She's going to be at the University of Paris, same as Adrien. She's taking journalism, just like she's always wanted. I think that she'll do well, she's hard working and she has the charisma to be a reporter. Alya has something special, no matter what you can't help but watch her.

"Yeah," I tell her. I hope that I sound more confident than I feel. "Are you going home?"

"I should," She tells me. "I have a ticket for the five o'clock train, but I can buy a later one if you want."

"No," I tell her. "Good luck tomorrow, call me when you get back to the city."

She frowns and hugs me tightly. I don't know what it is about Alya's hugs, but they seem to make all the problems in the world go away. It's going to be so hard not seeing her every day. I don't know anyone here in England. There's nobody here that I can go to if I need advice or a shoulder to cry on. I find myself squeezing her tighter as a tear escapes my eye. I tried so hard to be strong. But now I realize that I am weak.

She lets go of me hesitantly and wipes a tear from her own eye, then places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"You're going to be amazing Marinette." She whispered.

"I know." I try my best to smile for her, but everything hurts to the point where even a smile doesn't feel good.

She leaves minutes later. And I'm suddenly all alone in the middle of a foreign city. It's overwhelming. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I lie on my bed and bury my face in my pillow. A loud wail escapes my mouth, but no tears fall. I feel a tiny hand on my head, gently stroking my hair as I cry into my pillow.

"It's okay Marinette." Tikki comforts me.

I try to breathe, but I can't. I'm heaving and gasping like something is strangling me. I can't force myself to calm down. Why did I think that I could do this? How could I possibly think that I could survive without them? I can't live without them. Every time I think about them, I feel like there is this empty gaping hole in my chest that just keeps hurting. A part of me knows that hurt will never go away, losing two people that I loved so dearly is a scar that will never heal. I can't escape this pain no matter what I do. I can't distract myself, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't live. I can't truly live. Now that they are gone, who will kiss my head and tell me they love me? Who will give me advice? Who will I turn to? I love them. I love them more than anything else in the world. And now I don't have them by my side anymore. I wish they were here to help me moved in. I wish that they could have stocked the fridge with leftovers and helped me hang pictures on the walls. I wish that they were here to hug me and tell me how proud they were of me. That is what I need to be. I need to stop crying and be someone my parents would be proud of.

"I can't cry anymore." I take a deep, slow, breath. "I have to stop."

"Marinette, you're entitled to your emotions," Tikki consoles me. "It's okay."

I know that. That doesn't mean that I don't want it to stop. Stop all of the pain. Try to remember a time when everything was okay, when I was happy. Before the accident, before everything became so fucked up. I remember when the bakery smelled like a bakery, like bread and cookies, instead of being an empty building on a street corner. I remember my mother, a sweet smile on her face, humming in the kitchen as she prepared pastries. I remember my father, giving me a warm hug before I went off to school. I remember when Alya, and Nino, and Adrien would visit. When we would eat leftover pastries together and watch movies. I remember the night Adrien first told me that he loved me. The moment I swore my heart would burst. I remember his kiss, and his touch. I remember leaving Paris without saying goodbye. Why did I do that? Why couldn't I have gone to see him before I left?

I feel like crying again when I hear my phone buzzing. Alya must be psychic, how else would she know exactly when I need her? I pick up the phone and look down at the caller ID. My eyes widen. It isn't Alya. I've been ignoring this call for so long. The call that has been coming every day for months, and I didn't pick up. I wasn't going to ignore the call this time. I pressed the little green answer button and held the phone up to my ear.

"Adrien?" I don't realize just how choked up I sound when I say his name. But he does.

"Mari, are you alright?" He asks, his voice filled with concern.

A quiet sob escapes my lips. I have been awful to him. He has been trying to reach out to me for months and I kept ignoring him. I don't deserve someone like him. Someone who is so loyal and loving no matter what.

"No." I admit. "I'm not. I'm alone and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do."

He's silent for a moment.

"You're not alone." He tells me.

"I know," I reply. "I have Tikki, but-"

"No." He interrupts me.

A sudden knocking at the door causes me to jump. It must be the landlord, or maybe a friendly neighbour who actually cares to welcome new tenants, whoever it is they couldn't have picked a worse time to visit. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and quickly wipe my eyes. I hope that my face isn't too red, I don't want anyone to know I was crying.

"Just a minute, Adrien, someone's at the door." I quickly tell him.

I reach for the handle, hopefully this person will be in and out as quickly as possible.

"Hello?" I call, opening the door slowly.

I nearly drop my phone when I see him. His face is familiar and comforting, and there's a small yet reassuring smile on his face.

"A-Adrien," I stutter. I haven't stuttered around him in a long time. "What are you doing here?"

He hands me a paper bag with a popular winery's logo on it.

"It is customary to bring someone wine when they moved into their first apartment." He replies.

I look at the bag and look back up at him. I raise one of my eyebrows, and I can't help but smile at the goofy grin he has on his face.

"Really?" I inquire.

"No." I shakes his head. "I just didn't want to show up empty handed."

I feel a small chortle rumble in my throat at his logic.

"You took a two hour train from Paris to London just to bring me wine?" I chuckle.

"No, I took a two hour train from Paris to London because I wanted to see you." He smiles.

My brain seems to stop functioning at his words, my heart quickly thumps in my chest. He came all the way to London for no other reason other than to see me. I take the wine from him and motioned for him to come inside. He came all this way just for me. Suddenly I'm so overwhelmed with emotion that I don't know what to do.

"Don't you have class tomorrow?" I ask.

"I have Mondays free." He replies. "Are you alright?"

I turn away from him and nod quickly, one look at my face and he would be able to tell that I was lying. Now where did I put the wine bottle opener? Most of the kitchen is filled with boxes, mostly pots and pans, but the utensils are mostly put away. I don't have any wine glasses, so we'll have to drink out of regular glasses. I place the bottle on the counter and begin to unscrew the cap.

"Mari?" I feel his hand on my shoulder, his touch is hesitant.

I drop the wine bottle opener, the metal instrument falls to the ground with a loud clatter. I grip the counter tightly. I've done enough crying today. I don't want to cry again. But Adrien being here, him showing up so unexpectedly, it's almost too much. I shut him out for so long. I caused him so much pain, pain that I never wanted for him. And after everything that has happened, he loves me anyways.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

My vision becomes blurry as my eyes fill with tears. I feel Adrien wrap his arms around me and pull me close to him. He rests his chin on top of my head and he squeezes me tightly.

"I am so, so sorry." I repeat.

I turn around to face him and hug him back, burying my face in his chest. I feel his hands gently rubbing my back as I tremble in his arms. I pushed him away for so long, I didn't want to push him away anymore.

"It's okay." He whispers comfortingly.

"No, it's not!" I exclaimed. "I should have talked to you. I should have answered the phone when you called."

He pulls me closer, my body is pressed up against his, making me feel warm and protected. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and my heart beating just a little faster. I feel this desire, a need to be with him, to be close to him. I've never felt like this with anyone else and I never want to feel this way with anyone else.

"You were mourning." His voice is soft and comforting. "It's alright."

"No it's not!" I yell. "I was sad, but you wanted to help me and I just-"

I choke on my words. Adrien gently takes my hands and leads me to the kitchen table, he pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit down. Then he hands me a glass of water and gently caresses my hair. The gesture is sweet and comforting, it reminds me of something my parent would do. I choke up again at the thought of them. Adrien gently places two fingers under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

"I want to help you," He calmly remarks. "I will always be here for you, as long as you want me to be."

And then, for the first time in a long time, I kiss him. I kiss him like I'm dying, like this is the last time I will ever be kissed. I kiss him like I'm drowning and he is air. Like I need him to live. I cling to him so desperately, running my fingers through his silky blonde hair. He wraps his arms around me, our kiss deepens until it completely takes over all of my senses.

And then I pull away, tears still streaming down my face. Adrien gently wipes my tears, the look in his eyes is so genuine and loving that it only makes me want to cry more.

"I'm sorry." I repeat again. "I thought I was okay."

"I'll stay with you until you are." He sounds so confident.

"You have to go back to Paris." I remind him.

He looks down.

"I don't have to go back yet." He replies. "If you're okay with it, I'll spend the night here and go back tomorrow. And I'll call you every day, and I'll visit every weekend."

For a minute, I'm not sure what to say to him. I want to be with him again, I really do. I want to walk with him down the streets of London, do all of the tacky touristy things, I want to experience life with him.

"I understand if you need time to heal," His face is so close to mine I can feel his breath on my lips. "But one day, I would like to be yours again."

I can't stop the smile that breaks out on my face. I don't know how he can make me feel so special, and happy, and wanted, even when I'm so sad. The empty hole in my heart feels slightly less empty now. It will take a long time to feel whole again, I know that. But this is a start. He's my Chat Noir, I'm his Ladybug. I want to remind him, but I can't seem to find the words. The silence still lingers between us, but it isn't awkward, it's almost happy. Is it possible for silence to be happy? I can't stop looking at him, I feel like a weirdo. God, Marinette, say something already.

"Again?" I inquire. I place my hand on his cheek and pull his face closer so that my forehead rests against his. "Chaton, who said you ever stopped?"

Somehow his smile becomes impossibly bigger, and he kisses me once again.

And that's when I knew. No matter how much pain I was feeling now, I was going to be okay someday. Definitely not today, and not tomorrow. I would heal slowly, it would take a long time. But I was going to be okay. Because I had him. No matter what.

I would always have him.

* * *

 **And that is the end! I hope that you enjoyed the final chapter of Say Something. This fan fiction took like nine months to write. I started writing this in April.**

 **I would like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, and followed this fanfiction. You have all been great support for me through this writing process. I was always filled with the weirdest sense of pride and joy when someone commented telling me that they cried... I'm not sure why.**

 **I would like to thank Gayle Forman for writing If I Stay, which was half the inspiration for this fic. And Thomas Astruc for creating the other half of the inspiration for this fic.**

 **As for what I will write next? I've been getting into a lot of enemy AUs so maybe that? I don't know yet. But I will write another Miraculous Ladybug story very soon.**

 **Thank you, all of you for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day. And happy new year!**


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